


Love is a lottery ticket

by CallaLilyPetals



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blushing, But only a little, Emotional Abuse, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Game Night, Hurt/Comfort, I like it, M/M, Minor Prinxiety, Minor Suicidal Thoughts, Physical Abuse, Physical and emotional abuse, Slow Burn, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, also deceit doesn't tell lies he can just kinda sense when someone's telling a lie, blushing logan, but also very sad times, dylan is deceit btw, fun times, gay shit, i hope yall like it, it's wack i know, jus saying, like a lot, like sloooooow, logan comforts patton, logan falls first, minor remy/deceit, okay maybe not just a little, patton abuse, rando boyfriend of paton's named auguste, sorry team, theres a happy ending so it's fine, whoops sorry, yall are gonna hate me a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 07:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallaLilyPetals/pseuds/CallaLilyPetals
Summary: Patton meets a boy at a bus stop, and falls head over heels in love. But as they're relationship progresses, Patton starts to drift away from those who care most about him, and his mental and physical state, takes a hitLogan, a boy that he served at the cafe he works at, Barista's Toe Beans, seems to be more than just a friend.Patton full of conflicting emotions, and his life in shambles has to pick up the pieces in order to be happy once more. But not without help.(Coffee shop au, pretty much...)(very cute, would highly recommend)(although if you're sensitive to abuse, I wouldn't)





	1. You don't look like someone to drink something that sweet

**Author's Note:**

> my sister convinced me to do this  
> hope ya like it
> 
> lmao, beware of swearies

Patton is standing under the roof of the bus stop, the wind strong. He’s smiling, beaming, excited to get home. His scarf is moving wildly, his hair a mess. Rain on a stormy autumn night. He holds his arms, breathing into his palms, trying to draw heat to his hands.

 

The rain is pounding on the roof, like hot tears rolling down.

 

Patton loves the rain, he loves fall. He loves life. He thinks life is a box of chocolates, and he’s gotten his favorite flavor. He’s fallen head over heels for life.

 

Patton is waiting for the bus to come. He is waiting to get home.

 

And that’s when Auguste walks into his life.

 

Or rather, runs.

 

A man is running full throttle to the bus stop.

 

His cheeks are blotchy, stained red, his nose tipped to ceiling, pointy as pinocchio. His ears are round and almost yelling for attention. His breath is coming out in clouds, and seems a shortness of it. He is the unconventional beauty you see and you fall for without knowing.

 

Patton chuckles, looking at the boy that screamed quirky. That screamed Patton.

 

Patton thinks he fell in love with him, right there.

 

He thinks he fell in love with the tardy boy that had splotchy cheeks, and a pointy nose. He thinks, he fell in love with the boy who thought he missed the bus, despite it having not arrived yet.

 

Blushing boy falls over. He falls from the slick sidewalk, and his untied shoelaces. He falls for Patton.

 

Patton laughs, rushing to pick up the stranger who had fallen in the puddles. His clothes now soaked through, lightly brown.

 

“Thank you, I have to go to my mom’s house and she’d kill me if I was late.” He says, looking up into Paton’s eyes.

 

Blue meet hazel and Patton is dizzy. Pinocchio has beautiful hazel eyes, and Patton’s heart is pounding, hard. Patton flushes, avoiding the boy who was trying to look past his hair.

 

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” The boy says, smiling at him. Patton is cherry red, looking everywhere else.

 

“Patton.” He responds, quickly, sticking out his hand.

 

The boy is taller than him by a few inches, looking down at Patton.

 

“Auguste. How can I repay you, Patton?” Auguste is wearing a cheeky grin, his breath still coming in waves. Patton’s breath catches.

 

He smiles, gathering his confidence once more, “You can repay me by not falling in the rain. I only did what a good citizen would do.”

 

Auguste laughs, “Alright Patton, would you like to sit next to me on the bus? I might fall getting on if you’re not there to catch me.”

 

Patton’s eyes twinkles, nodding furiously.

 

The bus is pulling in. A screech of the tires against the asphalt, and the heat that emanates off of it. Patton grabs Auguste’s wrist, tugging him in after him. He is hiding his crimson colored face behind his blue scarf, and doing a terrible job at not smiling. They sit in the front row, and Auguste is still looking at Patton, eyes glued to him.

 

They start moving, and so does their conversation.

 

They talk.

 

They talk of their dreams, they talk of their careers and where they want to be. Patton says he wants to be writer, Auguste says Patton is already a writer. Patton says he works at a coffee shop, Auguste says not for long. Patton is a mess, having to look away at every compliment, simultaneously trying to keep his mouth going. He thinks if he stops, he’ll do something stupid, say something stupid.

 

He probably already has.  

 

Patton is dizzy. Dizzy off Auguste’s smile. Off his ears. Off his eyes. Off his nose.

 

He thinks he could love Auguste.

 

The bus creaks to a stop. It feels like they’ve only just started talking, seconds ago. It feels like they’ve known each other their whole lives. Patton is a romantic, and doesn’t want this moment to stop. This feels straight out of a movie.

 

“Patton, I wish my mom didn’t get mad so easily. I would stay here, but it seems I have to go. This is my stop.” Auguste speaks in a poem, every word mattered. Patton thought it hypnotizing.

 

Until he frowns, “Oh, sorry.” He says, waiting out in the isle for Auguste to have room to get out.

 

Auguste wears a tight lipped smile, worry creased in his features. Patton wonders why.

 

“Patton, would you like to see me, again?”

 

His heart rockets, he wasn’t the only one.

 

His pulse quickens and blurts out, “Would you like to come to my friend’s game night?”

 

Patton could acknowledge this was fast. Normally, there was a rule you had to be dating someone for at least a month before inviting them to game night. He pushes away those thoughts quickly, though, thinking his friends would make Auguste the exception.

 

Auguste…

 

Well, he felt different than others.

 

And Patton was excited.

 

Auguste gets off the bus, and it’s pulling away. Only a few stops away from Patton’s apartment.

 

Until

 

Spiky red hair, pinocchio nose, splotchy cheeks, and big ears. Waving. At _him._

 

Patton might faint.

 

He can’t believe he has to wait four days to see Auguste. But also relieved. He had time to prepare himself.

 

Patton held his face in his hands the whole ride back. Squirming in his seat with excitement.

 

.

.

.

 

Patton swings his door open, the smell of Pasta fresh in his nose.

 

Dylan is in the kitchen, making dinner.

 

Dylan was grunge. He was punk. He was everything Patton wasn’t. He had a snake bite piercing, a septum piercing, and as many as possible on his ears. He rocked a dyed platinum undercut, and eyes with heterochromia of brown and green. He wore beanies, black turtlenecks, ripped denim jeans, and chains as accessories. Vitiligo coloured his face in black and white.

 

He was the emo hipster version of Steve Jobs. Glasses and all.

 

Patton had once been jealous of his put together look, always having the same style. Day in, day out. Patton was a little bit more scattered. Some days wearing a big baby blue knitted sweater, and the next, a collared shirt with tiny hot dogs he painted on. Now, he loved his wardrobe. He loved the funkiness. He loved not being put together.

 

Dylan raises a brow, looking at Patton’s almost glowing face. “What happened? Surely something not worth smiling that much.”

 

Patton sighs, lovesick.

 

...On the first encounter… (talk about Anna and Hans syndrome)

 

“Love. Love happened.”

 

Dylan grimaces, grossed out at the thought of what that implied and Patton blushes.

 

“No - I mean - I met someone. They were…” Patton sighs.

 

Dylan sighs, but he sighs for a different reason. “Patton… oh Patton…” Dylan is shaking his head, a motherly scorn.

 

Patton’s eyes are twinkling like stars. Like he just met the moon, like the moon told him it was his to take, and him only. Dylan’s eyes were warm, like chocolate, and picnics. He knew of Patton’s easy attachment to others.

 

Yes, it had the ability to cause harm to Patton, but most would never. Patton was too much like a cookie pulled right out the oven. He melted onto your hand before you could destroy it. Only a monster would break someone like Patton. So Dylan let him. Dylan let him believe that the world _was_ the sunshine and rainbows that Patton had made it out to be.

 

He smiled to himself. That was Patton. An unchangeable ball of happiness.

 

“I invited him to game night.” Patton whispers, shoulders next to his ears, prepared for telling off.

 

Dylan’s mouth was wide open, until he realized the noodles might burn. So he quickly pulled them out and into a strainer.

 

He licked his lips, brows furrowed, lost at words. Patton gave helpless look.

 

“Didn’t you meet him, today? We don’t even know his name!” Dylan says, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. Patton knew that Dylan was touchy about game night. He liked his friends, and his friends only. When Remy and Dylan had started dating, it took _awhile_ for Patton and Virgil to convince him to invite him over. Okay, it took awhile for _Patton_ to convince him, Virgil hadn’t cared.

 

Dylan was tight lipped, eyes sewn shut, “I guess… the deed is already done…”

 

Patton radiated happiness as he continued to stir the marinara sauce.

 

“His name is Auguste. His nose is like pinocchio’s and his ears are as big as his heart. He’s…” Patton paused, dizzy with puppy love.

 

Dylan looked to his face to find glitter in his eyes. Patton bites his lip and continues, “He’s the dream guy.”

 

Dylan gives him a funny look, “You’re dream guy is dumbo and pinocchio? I know you like disney, Patton, but isn’t this a bit too… much?”

 

Patton swats at him playfully, his smile growing. “Shut up, he’s beautiful.”

 

Dylan looked unsure, but didn’t say anything.

 

They finished making the pasta, the apartment now smelling of an Italian restaurant. They fell onto the couch, putting on queer eye as they ate. This was their routine. Of course, Patton adored it.

 

(Antoni was Dylan’s favorite of the fab five, but Bobby always had a soft spot in Patton’s heart.)

  

“Did Remy already go to bed?” Patton asks, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

 

Dylan nodded, wrapping Patton into an embrace, said goodnight and headed off to his and Remy’s bedroom. Patton cleaned up their plates, giving them a quick rinse before putting them into the dishwasher. He grabbed a blanket from the couch and went to his room, the tv already turned off.

 

As Patton shut the door to his bedroom, he leaned against it, putting his weight against the white door that had a poster of Ultimate Storytime, a musical performed by Patton’s idol, Thomas Sanders.

 

He sank, his back on the door. His hair ruffled as he smiled to himself remembering Auguste.

 

In the quietness of his room, in Patton’s vibrantly red cheeks, in his freckles, in his aqua eyes, he can see his future. His future with Auguste.

 

In a dream, wrapped in the wrapping paper of throwaway wishes, he hopes, he wants, he _thinks_ , he knows

 

He’s going to marry this boy.

.

.

.

 

Patton is at work. Specifically, _Barista’s Toe Beans_. The place where he met not only Dylan, but also Virgil and Remy. They all worked here, they all had come to love the smell of coffee in the morning and the walnut stained counters.

 

They had grown fond of the mornings that smelled of crumbly pastries and customers that had the look of Monday morning on their face every day they came in, and the smile that came after they had received their drinks. They loved the granite counters, and the wooden tables. The burns that had been etched into skin from the amount of spilt beverages.

 

Patton did not need to be told twice to smell the coffee in the morning, already bathing in the smell everyday. He thinks he won’t ever get tired of that smell.

 

He goes to wipe the sweat from his brow, as he scribbles names on cups, greeting every incoming customer with big smiles.

 

That’s when Patton looks up.

 

 _Barista’s Toe Beans_ barely ever had new customers, they were mostly the same people everyday. That’s why it was such a surprise

 

When Logan walked into his life.

 

A man wearing a precisely tailored suit, almost sculpted to his body, was next in line. He had tight shoulders, full of strain. He was all sharp edges, and mechanical movements. He looked everywhere. At his watch, at his phone, at the hair that had fallen onto his face. He had cold cobalt eyes, a deep shade that made you feel like you were drowning.

 

For a quick second, Patton had the sudden urge to swim in them, to bathe in them. To look at them forever.

 

But then, businessman decided to speak.

 

“Excuse me? Do you not get paid to work? I said I wanted a caramel frappuccino.”

 

Patton did not think this guy looked like the type to get something as sweet as that, and he had said as much.

 

Businessman ruffled his hair, frustrated, looking at his watch once more, “Yes, yes, I know. Would you rather I say I want pitch black coffee? Or would you rather actually do your job?”

 

Patton’s face goes tight. He wasn’t very inclined to get mad at someone’s rudeness, but he still didn’t like the man’s attitude. Someone so ill-mannered shouldn’t have been rewarded with such charming looks. Patton found it almost unfair.

 

He plasters on a sunshiny smile, trying to ignore everything that came out of the man’s mouth. He fills out the order, and gives it to Virgil. The man goes to sip it, distracted, looking down at his phone, and brings his lips to it only to cringe backwards. Patton is all wide eyes.

 

The coffee is pitch black.

 

No sugar.

 

No cream.

 

And now, definitely no tip.

 

“What is this? Should I get you fired?” The man’s eyes are no longer deep waters, they are now a tsunami of waves crashing into one another, overlapping anger and disgust. Patton shrinks into himself.

 

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t do -”

 

“Hey asshat! That was my doing. Maybe if you weren’t such a dick, I would have made what you wanted.” Virgil shouts over his shoulder, working on another order that, hopefully, he wouldn’t mess up because the person was a bit rude.

 

“Virgil! Language!” Patton shoots back, trying to hold a frail smile looking at the towering man above him that was wearing one of the most scary expressions - Patton swears - he has seen in his life.

 

Dylan calls back, “Don’t be a such a fucking Richard, fuckface.” Remy snorts, but Virgil is in tears, laughing loud. Some of the customers in the line are disturbed, and check to see where the cackling is coming from.

 

Patton sighs, his chin quivering, trying to hold the smile off his face. Conflicted with feelings that he disappointed someone.

 

The man with the pitch black personality, and the sugary filled order was bright red. From embarrassment or anger, a little bit of both? Patton would never know.

 

Remy goes to stand behind Patton, hand on his back. His eyelids resting far down on his eyes, crust lingering at the corners. (He wasn’t a morning person, despite having a job that had him wake up extra early.)

 

“Just apologize, man. Next time we’ll get your real order.” He didn’t look very awake.

 

The man, looked everywhere but them. Down at his watch, once more. And back up at Patton. Now he was blushing, Patton stopped himself from thinking he was cute.

 

Hesitation and regret was buried in the cracks of his face.

 

“I - I apologize. It’s my first day working at my firm, and I’m bordering on being on time instead of early, and my friend had convinced me to stay up later than what I should have.” He looked away immediately after his words, shoving his credit card in Patton’s face.

 

A gasp came from the line of people that were waiting. They hadn’t minded to wait for their coffee to see the drama unravel and seemed to be as entertained as Dylan and Virgil by this whole thing.

 

Dylan and Virgil’s mouth was open with a mix of awe and shock. Patton was taking a long blink, that, at this point, was more like a nap, and a blushing mess at the same time. Remy seemed like he had only just now, started to wake up, his eyes no longer squinting.

 

A whisper comes from the line, “Wig, thrown.” Accompanied by muffled laughter, some customers covering up their own laughter by coughing. The cafe was a sight to behold.

 

The credit card shoved in Patton’s face read _Logan Lancaster_. Patton took it, quickly swiping it and giving it back to him. “Thank you for your business, sir.”

 

Logan gives Patton a small, tired smile, his face matching Patton’s blush. “Thanks for the coffee.”

 

The door swung open once more, the bell attached to the door, ringing.

 

Patton thinks that Logan will come again tomorrow, but waves it off immediately, wondering why he even cared.

 

And there on the counter, a five dollar tip, more than the drink. 

 

.

.

.

 

 

As Patton’s shift starts to end, he’s wiping down the tables. “So, Virgil. I heard you’re bringing someone to game night.”

 

Virgil freezes in his spot, his hand hovering over a table with sprawled out dishes stained with brown. “Umm...yeah.” He mutters.

 

Remy perks up, “Oh, who’s the babe, babe? Tbh, I was getting kinda worried that you wouldn’t find anyone.”

 

Dylan comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Remy’s core, resting his head in the crook of Remy’s neck. “Yeah, I haven’t heard much.”

 

“I’ve only heard he’s hot.” Remy comments.

 

Virgil’s bangs covered most of his face, but it couldn’t hide the beat red that painted his normally ghost white face. “I didn’t say he was hot, I just said he was a model… and his name is Roman”

 

Patton’s eyes were almost bursting out of his skull, “My misunderstood shadowling has caught the eye of a model? Oh my god, come here.” Patton’s face was spread into a big smile, arms out wide, eyes closed, waiting for a hug.

 

Virgil pursed his lips, sighing, slowly sauntering over to Patton’s embrace, unable to deny the epic cuddles of one such as Patton.

 

“My baby’s all grown up! Look at him.” Patton grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks up against his eyes as Virgil struggled to run away.

 

Remy tilts his head, and nodded lovingly, like a mother who realized she had to let the nurses clean the baby right after birth.

 

It was an odd look, to say the least. 

 

“Stpppp thtt, lt mi guuur!” Virgil murmured through his squished cheeks and closed jaw.

 

Dylan gave a wicked grin, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

 

Patton frowns, “Don’t be mean. Virgil, what’s the magic word?”

 

Virgil huffs, “Plllissss?” Patton smiles, unwrapping him from his motherly embrace.

 

Virgil scowls, running to the corner, seeking refuge in the pastries. Quietly nibbling on a muffin, like a mouse would on cheese.

 

Dylan and Remy carry out taunts about how much they are going to embarrass Virgil with PDA when his boyfriend comes over. Virgil gnaws furiously on his muffin hearing these words.

 

Patton smiles to himself until his phone starts to ring.

 

“Hello?” He says, going to the kitchen to get away from the chatter.

 

“Hey, it’s Auguste.” Patton’s heart flutters at his voice, remembering he gave him his number.

 

“Hi.” He says, breathy.

 

“Hi.” Auguste says, equally out of breath.

 

Silence on the line for almost ten seconds.

 

“I was wondering if you’d like to see me earlier than what we planned?” Auguste asks, hesitation stirred into his tone.

 

Patton’s breath caught.

 

“Yes, where? When?”

 

“Look out the window.”

 

There was Auguste, outside the window with flowers, sunflowers, Patton’s favorite. He had mentioned that in their talk, and Auguste had remembered. Patton flushed a light pinky tone.

 

No one in the cafe had noticed the boy with the big ears and long nose outside the window so Patton muttered an excuse and went outside.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

They smiled to themselves, like they held a secret.

 

“Ready to go?” Auguste asked, out of breath, winded, maybe it wasn’t Patton that made him nervous. Maybe he had just ran here.

 

“Go? Go where?”

 

A grin of mischief that only meant trouble cracked onto Auguste’s face.

 

“A surprise.”

 

.

.

.

 

The surprise was a circus.

 

If Patton was being honest, he didn’t even know that there were still circuses. He enjoyed it, but what made it _amazing_ was Auguste. His smile, his ears, his charms, his laugh. Patton had thought it before, but it crossed his mind again.

 

He thinks he’s going to marry Auguste.

 

He thinks, Auguste is the one.

 

He had learned three new things about Auguste. One, he’s actually French and learned English in less than a year. Two, he can play the piano. Three, his hair is naturally the fiery red that it is now.

 

Each thing that he learned about Auguste, made him fall more and more in love.

 

He knew he was going to marry this boy.


	2. Game Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, if it wasn't clear, Dylan is Deceit, and deceit doesn't tell lies, he can just tell when others are  
> and this chapters kind of has hints of nonconsensual touching, so, reader be warned.  
> also,  
> a ridiculous amount of foreshadowing
> 
> lmao, watch out for swearies
> 
> this chapter was SUPPPPER fun to write goshdigitty darn  
> and that's not even sarcasm
> 
> whoops i posted this earlier than what i should have

 

Tonight, Auguste was coming over.

 

Patton had combed his hair over, curled, and combed over. He hadn’t decided how he wanted to do it. If he wanted to smell of orchids or gingerbread. How he wanted to dress, how he wanted to act. He was scared.

 

Almost.

 

He couldn’t be scared with Auguste. Auguste was everything but scary. He was safe. He was the arms that everyone dreamed of being held in. He was the fire on a winter’s night, your mom’s chicken soup, he was warmth.

 

Patton wasn’t scared, he was nervous. Almost shaking. No, not almost. He _was_ shaking.

 

The door creaks open, “Patton? Everyone’s going to be arriving soon. Are you good?” Dylan asks, concern creeping into his brows.

 

Dylan’s ears were stretched to fit inch wide black earrings, but his septum piercing was removed. He was wearing his signature swampy green turtleneck but with a white long sleeve crop top over it, with grey plaid pants that were only scarcely ripped. Two chokers wrapped around his neck and a gold cross necklace hanging.

 

Patton never understood how easily Dylan could throw an outfit together, when it took him an hour in the morning to choose something as simple as a blue hoodie and cuffed jeans.

 

At Dylan’s question, he shook his head violently, “No, I need help. I think I’m having a panic attack. I think, I understand Virgil now. Y’know when he says he feels like his throat is closing up. I feel like I can’t breath. Maybe we should just tell him not to come -”

 

Dylan set his hands on Patton’s shoulders. His eyes were twinkling, his emerald and sepia eyes dancing together, mischievous. His mouth spread in a wild grin. “Patton, you are the sweetest person I know. And as much as I lie about doing the dishes, I’m not lying about that. If Auguste doesn’t like you then he’s the dumbest person ever known.”

 

Patton’s heart swelled. Despite Dylan’s outward appearance he really was a sweet person. A heart of gold covered by his steely exterior. Patton could understand why Remy loved him. He thinks that Dylan would be someone easy to love.

 

Patton inhaled, breathing in Dylan’s confidence, exhaling his own doubt.

 

“I need help.”

 

Dylan’s eyes shined, his grin widened, and for a second, Patton regretted asking.

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

.

.

.

 

Apparently, Dylan used to dress like Patton. Dylan said sometimes he had to pretend to be like Patton whenever he saw his parents over Christmas break. So, he had clothes that were kind of Patton’s style. They had decided on overalls that cuffed at the knee with a shirt with bananas on it behind it.

 

Patton looks down at his clothes in amazement.

 

Dylan raises a brow, “You like?”

 

Patton just nods fervently, still giggling at the bananas on his shirt. Some of them were in bunches, and others by themselves.

 

“Are we ready? Because the pizza is.” Dylan says, swiftly opening the door for Patton.

 

Patton’s mouth waters at just the thought of Dylan’s cooking. He thinks if Dylan didn’t cook every night, he might starve. The only thing he could do in a kitchen was smile and pretend to stir the beans. Okay, he couldn’t do that either. (I hate to spill the beans but he burnt them so.)

 

Dylan’s taking the pizzas out of the oven, (One cheese, one pepperoni, one everything,) as Remy walks in. He’s wearing a gucci shirt and an unbuttoned grey flannel tucked into high waisted, acid washed jeans with a Louis Vuitton belt wrapped around, Cartier gold-plated round-lensed sunglasses, and vintage Burberry high top sneakers. Patton only knowing this because he said this as soon as he came in. Store bought sugar cookies with the cavity inducing frosting in hand, he kisses Dylan’s cheek and throws the container onto the table.

 

Nothing to see here.

 

“Hey, Remy. Look what I had Patton wear.” Dylan says over his shoulder, adding finishing touches to the pizzas.

 

Remy lowers his sunglasses, still half on his face, examining Patton’s outfit, “Cute, babe.” He comments, turning to start stuffing the sugar cookies into his face.

 

Patton’s not sure if he’s not talking to Dylan or him.

 

“So when’s Virgil and his mystery boy coming?” Dylan asks, fanning the pizzas already trying to scoop a piece into his mouth.

 

“Ummm… he should be here any minute.” Patton responds, drumming his fingers against his bear knees, getting anxious at the realization that that means that Auguste will arrive soon. He wishes that he had made or brought something so he could stuff it in his mouth, too.

 

Alas.

 

A doorbell ringed, and Patton stiffens. Before he could rush to answer the door, Remy is already up, opening it, crumbs pouring from his mouth almost in waterfalls.

 

“Welcome to our humble abode.” He says, or at least that’s what Patton assumes. It sounds more like _weehee oo or umblll ebd._

 

A tall, well built, model is standing in the doorway. He’s wearing a simple grey tee, and light blue ripped jeans, (Which will definitely earn points with Dylan,) and a face that seemed all too familiar to Patton. Virgil beside him, wearing a Panic! at the disco t-shirt with a purple flannel and a leather jacket overlapping. 

 

“Hey, I’m Roman. I’m Virgil’s…” Roman says grinning from ear to ear, looking to the red faced Virgil to his side for the ending of that sentence. It’s a tease, Patton bets that Virgil only recently agreed to the title.

 

“...Boyfriend…” He answers, muffled by his hair that shades his face.

 

Roman bends down, peering into Virgil’s face, his eyes glinting with fresh delight, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

 

So they hadn’t even gotten into titles yet… Patton thought he might pass out from how adorable the two were. He looked over to Dylan to see him. He too was grinning from ear to ear just like Roman. Dylan had grown up with Virgil, and he knew that Virgil hadn’t had an easy childhood. You could tell that Virgil’s happiness meant a lot to him.

 

“Wait, you were in that ad a couple years back.” Remy says, mouth still full.

 

Roman’s smile faltered for half a second only for his laugh to burst out of in long hiccuping waves. It. Was. Awful. His laugh, to put it simply, (and Patton didn’t like to be mean, but he insists,) sounds like a dying walrus.

 

Remy took a big swallow, a slow smile creeping onto his face, his bottom lip quivering. Everyone could tell he was trying to hold in the biggest laugh. Trying to be polite so hard. Trying not to laugh at a guest, let alone one’s laugh. But, he didn’t make it.

 

It started as a chuckle, and then guffaw, and full on howl. Tears sprouting from his glistening eyes, Remy was hunched over, bent down at the knees, trying to stay on his feet. He almost did, but then Roman started to laugh harder and then it sounded like a recorder, and Patton could swear it sounded like _My Heart Will Go On_ , and Remy _broke down_. He fell over in gasping breaths, almost rolling on the ground.

 

Patton looked up to see what Dylan thought of all this and all he could see on his face was pure, sweet, astonishment.

 

Dylan was looking at Remy like he contained the secrets to the world, like he was an archaeologist who just cracked the rosetta stone, he looked at him like a five year old would look at superman if he found him in real life, like Remy was the sun, the moon, and the earth. It was so… _much_. Patton felt it too private of a look, and had to look away.

 

At this point, Remy had stood up, his hand out, “I’m sorry I misspoke, I meant to say: ‘Welcome to the family.’”

 

.

.

.

 

 

After the immense amount of embarrassment that Virgil had just lived, you’d think Roman would let him get away. But, nope!

 

Virgil brushes past Remy and Patton, probably to retreat to the guest bedroom for the rest of eternity, when Roman catches his wrist. Virgil turns at the touch, to look Roman in the eyes, and that’s when Roman pulls Virgil into a kiss before Virgil darts to the room.

 

Roman has a lightheaded expression on his face, and he looks like he’s just fallen for Virgil again right in front of Patton’s eyes. Again, he has to look away.

 

Remy is in the kitchen hovering over Dylan’s shoulder, trying to get Dylan to bite into the cookie that’s half out of Remy’s mouth, but Dylan is refusing on the basis of human hygiene.

 

Patton is waiting. He’s waiting for someone to sweep him off his feet, like these four have been. He feels no one will ever love him, and him, love someone else. He feels like the world is turning fast and he’s moving so slow.

 

Patton, not the first time in his life, feels truly alone.

 

And that’s when a knock comes at the door.

 

Patton stills, his heart thumping a million miles an hour.

 

_It’s Auguste._

 

_It’s Auguste._

 

_It’s Auguste._

 

His heart is surging with joy when he opens the door.

 

And then it stops all together.

 

A name crashes into his head.

 

 **_Logan Lancaster_ **.

 

And all of a sudden, the world wasn’t slow anymore. His world started to turn again. Reality started to blend with his dreams creating the nastily tasting milkshake called disappointment. Patton’s mouth tasted sour.

 

“I see you’re not very happy to see me.” Logan says, looking at Patton’s grief stricken face. He fixes his tie and brushes past the open-mouthed Patton. Remy eyes Logan like he’s something only kinda unexpected, but Patton is internally screaming.

 

Roman’s eyes light up at sight of him, and Virgil, having just emerged from the guest bedroom is weary of this. Jealousy riding onto his face, and it colors his face nasty.

 

Roman, seeing the worry that starts to cloud Virgil’s eyes, explains, “This is Logan, he’s my best friend from college. Remy asked me to bring a friend of mine because he thought you’d be lonely.” He says, looking at Patton at the last part.

 

And that’s when the pieces start to fit together. And of course, Dylan beats him to it.

 

“Wait,” He says, pausing as his mind still works through everything, “You’re the guy who kept Logan up late watching tv. Roman, turns out, we know your friend, over here.” He finishes, looking at Logan with newly found astonishment.

 

“Yeah, he’s the coffee brat who threw a fit over an unsugared beverage.” Virgil adds, getting a death glare from Logan.

 

Roman’s eyes widen, flushing, “Oh. Yeah, Logan told me an incident that happened while he was getting coffee. That was my bad. I guess we probably should’ve stopped an episode early, he gets grouchy when he stays up late.”

 

A chorus of, “Yeah, we know.”

 

Patton thought Virgil could scowl, but honestly, Virgil got nothing on Logan.

 

Through loud chatter, a knock comes at the door, Patton and Logan the only ones to notice through all the commotion. Logan’s eyes shift to the door in confusion, only to have guessed what the extra knock was, judging by the nervous expression on Patton’s face.

 

Before Logan can get to the door, Patton swiftly opens it, pulling Auguste in without explanation when he almost shouts over the babble, “One problem, guys. I brought someone.”

 

Auguste smiles, shyly, waving his fingers.

 

Logan looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. Dylan looks like he was caught in the act as Remy flips his head towards him in irritation. Roman looks concerned and confused, and Virgil doesn’t care.

 

“It’s Auguste. I met him on the bus a couple days ago.”

 

Crickets.

 

“I’m gonna go get the board games.” Virgil says slowly, taking a second to look at Auguste, his greasy t-shirt and baggy jeans. Distaste riddled his face.

 

“I’ll come with!” Roman says jumping up at the suggestion to leave the room. Whether to be alone with Virgil or to leave this awkward situation, Patton doesn’t know but he definitely would’ve jumped at chance if he hadn’t had two people that he had to entertain tonight.

 

Virgil looks like he’s gonna say something about it, but he keeps silent.

 

In silent judgement, everyone gathers around the living room. Remy next to Dylan, Dylan next to Logan, Logan next to Patton, Patton next to Auguste, and Auguste supposedly next to Roman and Virgil when they got back.

 

Taking a longer amount of time than expected, Virgil and Roman came back. They have the board games in hand but Roman with a triumphant smile and Virgil with lips that seem a bit… swollen?

 

When Remy raises a brow, at their ruffled hair, Virgil looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Dylan just chuckles.

 

Roman sits down with the grace that only a model can, seemingly helping Virgil down, that only ends with Virgil falling. He scowls at Roman, but there’s no heat in it, and you can tell he’s trying to hide his smile.

 

“Oh, right! Sorry, I forgot. I brought homemade brownies, I made them right before I came. That’s why it took me a little bit longer to get here.” Auguste says, setting down the brownies behind him on the coffee table they had just pushed back.

 

Dylan looks at him, his eyes narrowing, as he looks at the brownies in a way Patton doesn’t know how to describe. Then Dylan starts to whisper furiously into Remy’s ear, Patton can’t hear much but picks up something about Pinocchio’s nose growing…?

 

“Nice to meet you, Auguste. I’m Reigns. Roman Reigns.” Roman says with a cheeky grin.

 

Auguste laughs, a deepened voice impression, “I’m Bond. James Bond.”

 

Crickets.

 

Logan clears his throat, “How about we play _Clue_? It’s a fascinatingly analytical game about intrigue -”

 

“Boooooring.” Auguste interrupts, Logan glaring at him. Auguste doesn’t notice. “Who wants to do that when there’s _Chutes and Ladders_? C’mon Patton what do you think?”

 

Patton stills. Not at the question but because Auguste takes ahold of Patton’s head, caressing his jawline. Auguste’s fingers are sweaty, and Patton thinks for a second they smell like beer.

 

Everyone is looking at Patton, and he tries to bring a smile to his face, but his lips can’t seem to work. He settles for a tight-lipped nod.

 

“Yeah, we’ll play _Chutes and Ladders_.” He says, but he’s somewhere else. Still steeling himself at the feel of Auguste’s hands on him. A shiver travels down his spine, and Auguste takes that as an invitation to put his hand on Patton’s back instead of his face.

 

The whole room is tension, a knot in someone’s hair that can’t be unraveled unless it’s just cut off, once and for all. Patton looks down at his hands, trying to conjure up a smile. A smile would make the room happy...right? Patton smiles, but his eyes are like a cage, and everyone can see through the bars, everyone can tell that he wasn’t willingly put in this cell.

 

“Can we play?” Patton says, as Auguste starts to spin Patton’s blond locks around his fingers.

 

Dylan looks to Virgil, but Virgil is just as lost. Remy nods, “Anything you’d like, Patton.”

 

Patton doesn’t think he’s ever seen such disgust on someone’s face before he did that night on Logan’s.

 

.

.

.

 

Auguste wins the _Chutes_ _and Ladders_ , but the next eight rounds, Remy wins. Patton isn’t sure how, _Shoots and Ladders_ is a game of chance but judging by the steely look that Remy gives Auguste every time, Patton thinks he doesn’t really wanna know.

 

They move onto _Clue_ , and that’s when the night, in Patton’s opinion, takes its first hit.

 

“It was, in fact Scarlett with the fists in the lounge. Good job, Logan.” Roman says, reading off the cards. (They had added more variety to the - according to Virgil - lacking game.)

 

“Bullshit! The glasses fuck is cheating.” Auguste claims, pointing his finger at Logan, his words slurred, Patton thought it was just because it was late.

 

Logan is horrified.

 

“Alright get out of my house.” Virgil finally says, patience gone.

 

“This isn’t your house? I asked Pattoooon.” Auguste.

 

“Well, get the fuck out anyways.” Virgil.

 

“NooOOOoo, Patsy, protec meee fom yoor scawy friend.” Auguste.

 

“Alright, then.” In silent agreement, Remy and Virgil yanked Auguste up by the shoulders, pushing him to the door.

 

“Wait, guys, he’s just tired, he’s fine -” Patton tries to say but Remy is already opening the door, and Virgil’s already slamming it.

 

A muffled, “FINE, I DIDN’T WANT TO COME ANYWAYS.”

 

“Oh, thank God.” Roman says, inhaling.

 

“Right?” Dylan acknowledges, sighing.

 

They’re about to continue playing _Clue_ , when Patton yells, distressed, “I said he was tired! Why didn’t you listen to me? He isn’t like that when he’s around me!”

 

Virgil is looking at him in pure disgust, “Are you trying to defend that psycho? He laid hands on you, without your consent and he was being a brat and a fucking sore loser.”

 

“I know but that doesn’t mean -”

 

“Yes, it does mean, alright, Patton? I love ya, and that’s why I’m not going to stand for someone treating you like shit.”

 

“He wasn’t -”

 

“Stop talking, Patton. You sound stupid.”

 

Patton shuts up, tears sprang to his eyes, and before Virgil can apologize, he rushes to his room.

 

A whisper, through the walls he can hear, “I should probably go…” Logan.

 

.

.

.

 

Patton didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the weekend. He didn’t smile either. Dylan tried to talk to him about the lasagna he was making, but Patton glanced at him and walked away. He was like a walking shadow. Only half of what was.

 

Until late Sunday night.

 

“I’m sorry for kicking out Auguste.”  
An apology. That’s all Patton had wanted.

 

He smiled a bright, shiny, smile at Virgil, thanked him and once again he started to talking to people.

 

But his smile still wasn’t real.

 

And it worried Virgil.

 

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about it  
> angst coming at ya  
> hope you liked their outfits tho because i put a lot of thought into them  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> btw if you wanna leave a kudos or a comment, i won't object ;)  
> next update --- Monday, Feb. 4


	3. I think you're a good guy, Logan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight'  
> I'm really sorry, this chapter is a lot shorter, but i said i'd post something today and I had to this real quick. Also, this is all i had planned for this chapter so v(ಥ ̯ ಥ)v
> 
> idk if there are any swearies but since it's a tradition now  
> lmao, beware of swearies
> 
> Today's special: Logan's POV
> 
> Next chapter will be A LOT longer to make up for this, hold me to it

 

Logan has come back to the coffeehouse. Much to his surprise, he liked the coffee. Although he didn’t want more of it, he thought the quality was quite acceptable. So, he had come back. But only for the coffee of course. Not for the strawberry blond with glittering sky blue eyes that he learned was named Patton last night.

 

Upon entrance, Logan sees a familiar face. The face of someone that did not work here. Auguste. Logan didn’t have a reason as to why, but something like anger stirred in his stomach.

 

“I’m so sorry about last night, it was a mistake. It’ll never happen again. I was drunk.” Auguste says, his voice flavored with genuine sadness.

 

Patton tilts his head to the side, his eyes red, “Drunk?”

 

Auguste sighs, pushing back his hair, “I - … My grandmother had a stroke, I got drunk, I remembered game night and I couldn’t just not go… I wanted to see you…” He looks down at his shaking hands, “I’m so sorry.”

 

Over the counter, Patton gives Auguste an embrace. Logan wonders for a second how it’d feel, but is distracted by Dylan’s frown.

 

“Don’t _ever_ feel sorry for something you weren’t in control of.” Patton whispers into Auguste’s ear, tightening his hold, a shine to his eyes that could only mean tears.

 

Auguste draws back from the hug, smiling at Patton. “Thank you.” Something shined in his eyes. 

 

Logan clears his throat, his patience wearing down, “Excuse me? Not to worsen your opinion of me, but I do have to be at work.” He tries to make it into a tease, but it sounds more mechanical than anything else.

 

Patton is still looking at Auguste’s face when Logan says this. He turns to see Logan’s face and his face previously overflowed with emotion, drains. “Sorry!” He says, nodding at Auguste to leave.

 

Logan walks up to the counter with a small smile, but is stopped short when he hears Auguste calling from the door, “So many unnecessary apologies, today, don’t you think?”

 

Logan turns back to Patton’s face to find a look of lovesick.

 

“Was that the person who…?” Logan started to ask, not wanting the finish the end of that sentence. _Was that the person that you invited, was that the person that I was pitted against, was that the person that touched you when you wore the face of fear?_

 

Patton turned to Logan, face glowing. Logan was overwhelmed at the sight of his face. His smile spread across his face at the memory of the dumbo ears and the pinocchio nose. His eyes were shining like waterfalls that had the sun hitting it at just the right time. He was subtlety blushing, giving his face the color of the inside of a ripe peach.

 

Logan’s pulse kicked against his skin, rising. He felt his heart was about to punch out of him. _Leaky heart valve?_ Logan wonders.

 

“I - I would like the, umm, caramel frappuccino.” Logan stutters.

 

 _Stutters_.

 

Patton writes down at his order on a cup, beaming up at Logan, acting like nothing had happened. Nothing out of the ordinary. But Logan never stuttered, his words were rehearsed, almost too much.

 

Patton beamed up at Logan as he told him to wait over somewhere, but Logan just stiffened. He walked over to waiting counter, his shoulders stiff and full of tension.

 

He frowned to himself when he saw Remy wink at him.

 

Logan hadn’t a clue what was going on.

 

.

.

.

 

 

On the days that Logan didn’t have work, he went to the gym. He had always thought that -despite the amount of movies based around athletes being stupid - people who were the smartest, should have the best working bodies. Smart people were smart enough to know what made their bodies worked. Exercise and a plentiful amount of lean proteins and healthy greens.

 

He wouldn’t call himself “jacked,” but the general population might call him that. So, yes. He was toned. He liked having his additional muscle, and his almost abnormally tall height. (6’5) It helped him seem more intimidating in meetings.

 

Sometimes Roman would complain to him about _him_ being the model and about how unfair it was that Logan had more muscle, and more inches… on height that is. (Of Roman’s knowledge…) Roman wasn’t much shorter than Logan, three inches, but on some days Roman would talk of the irony of it all. Of course, he ended off saying he was the prettier one, it didn't really matter anyways. 

 

Sometimes Logan thought otherwise. Only sometimes.

 

Despite his healthy diet, Logan still had his signature sugary beverage to accompany his breakfast. He used to get it at _Anne’s Sugar and Cream_ , but since he moved here for work, his normal place has been _Starbucks_. Which, wasn’t great. He thought the coffee too bitter, (Despite the abundant amount of sugar added alongside it.)  

 

So, he had come to _Barista’s Toe Beans_ , and the rest was history. Granted, it was still on its trial, but Logan would probably keep going. He was very immune to routines.

 

So, it wasn’t a surprise when he went there again.

 

“Ahhh, Mr. BusinessMan is back. Except,” Remy pauses, taking in Logan’s full appearance, and grins, “Mr. BusinessMan is not wearing a suit? Let alone something without sleeves. Wow, flex on those haters, babe. Literally.”

 

Dylan walks up behind Remy and stops when he sees Logan. He looks to Remy. Then, Logan. Then Remy, again. Back to Logan. “Did you know about this?” He asks, still looking at Logan despite talking to Remy.

 

Logan didn’t know what they were talking about.

 

“No, but I wish I had. If I had told Patton there was someone jacked and smart and available, we would’ve ended up with someone better than that Pinocchio of his.” Remy comments, still looking at Logan.

 

Dylan smirks, “We certainly would, but then we wouldn’t have Patton, now would we?”

 

Remy frowns a little, “Yes, I guess you’re right… and we'd probably just gain a jealous boyfriend.” He says, looking at Dylan, snickering.

 

Dylan scowls.

 

Logan chuckles.

 

Remy whips his head toward Logan, and Dylan has wide eyes.

 

“I didn’t know he could do that, too.” Remy says with surprise.

 

“Me, neither.” Dylan agrees, his eyes shining like he’s just found a new toy.

 

Logan raises a brow, the smile from his laugh gone, “You do know I’m right here, right?”

 

“Sush,” Remy says, pushing Dylan out, his mischievous grin lingering.

 

Remy turns back to Logan, the look of a mother looking at her child’s straight A’s report card. It was a very odd and particular look. “Now, what would you like?”

 

.

.

.

 

Dylan is smiling, smiling wide and bright. Logan is almost scared. He thinks Dylan is the type to only smile when he’s planning something.

 

“Why are you smiling?” Logan questions, suspicion lurking in his eyes.

 

Dylan only brightens, looking up from the order he was writing on a cup. “Y’know, I think you’re a good guy, Logan.” He says this like it’s a revelation, a new discovery.

 

Logan narrows his eyes, “Alright…”

 

“No really.”

 

“I believe you.”

 

“I don’t think you do.”

 

Logan furrows his brows at that.

 

Logan doesn’t know why that makes him feel like someone just stabbed him. He doesn’t know why that frustrates him to no end. He doesn’t know why that makes him want to scream. And he hates not knowing.

 

But, he doesn’t say anything.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Dylan repeats, raising a brow.

 

“Okay.”

 

Logan starts to make coming a routine.

 

.

.

.

 

“I think we should get to know each other.” Logan abruptly says, while Virgil’s writing down his order.

 

Virgil snorts, “Why would I want to do that?”

 

Logan frowns, “Aren’t you and Roman dating?”

 

Virgil looks to the ceiling, like he’s asking it a question. His mouth open in disbelief, but his eyes saying that this whole exchange is funny. He looks back at Logan, his lips thinned out, and tight.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Mutual friends should be acquaintances.”

 

And that’s how Logan Lancaster started to have conversations with Virgil Vaile.

 

.

.

.

 

It’s raining outside and Logan thinks it dreadful. He always thought it so impractical. Especially so far into fall. He thinks it ridiculous. He thinks, that it should be snowing.

 

Alas, it is raining. It is raining like hot tears. Coming down it big splotches that seem to be trying to blind Logan by clouding up Logan’s glasses to no end. He huffs, a big cloud puffing out of his mouth with. He is distressed like Rapunzel would, waiting to let down her hair.

 

Except his house is prince charming, and his hair is his glasses, and he doesn’t quite fit Rapunzel’s description.

 

Logan Lancaster is walking home when he sees Patton.

 

Logan Lancaster is walking home when he sees Auguste.

 

He sees Auguste, gesturing wildly, from what Logan thinks, is anger coating his face.

 

He sees rain rolling down Patton’s face.

 

Or are those tears?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao, yall didn't expect Logan angst didya?  
> BOO b1tch
> 
> Auguste gets redemption??  
> Is Dylan planning something??  
> Is pAtTon cRyiNg?
> 
> btw if you wanna leave a kudos, or a comment, i wouldn't object ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter will be up by Wednesday, Feb. 6


	4. Right Place, Right Time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so, I said i'd post this tomorrow but here we are  
> immediately, I want to apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors, i'm not great at catching them  
> this chapter is also longer than almost the whole fic right now, whoops, but i did say i'd give you a longer chapter to make up for the short one last time.  
> we also reached 10000 today so yay  
> but it definitely came at a cost :/
> 
> ALSO  
> THERE IS SOME HEAVY EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS READING  
> THE NATIONAL NUMBER FOR DOMESTIC ABUSE IN THE U.S.A IS: 1-800-799-7233  
> IF YOU NEED HELP, PLEASE GET HELP  
> THERE IS A SLIGHT REFERENCE TO SUICIDAL THOUGHTS  
> THE NATIONAL NUMBER FOR SUICIDE PREVENTION IN THE U.S.A IS: 1-800-273-8255  
> IF YOU NEED HELP, PLEASE GET HELP

Hot tears are rolling down Patton’s face. He doesn’t know when he started crying, and for a second he thought it was just the rain. Despite this, Patton knows one thing, he is happy. Overjoyed. 

 

“I can’t believe you were able to get us tickets.” Patton exclaims, not even bothering to wipe the tears from his face. It looked like rain anyways.

 

Auguste had gotten tickets for Thomas Sander’s next show, tomorrow. He was recounting the epic tale of how it came to be. MAking wild gestures and a wide expanse of expressions, lighting up his face, and contorting it with anger. Patton thought that Auguste could be good actor. Very animated. 

 

Patton thinks he loves Auguste. He thinks that Auguste knows so much about him, and doesn’t know what to say. 

 

Patton chuckles, Auguste’s eyes are blown out like a bug and his ears seem bigger right now, his nose a bit longer. He looks like a cartoon, and Patton thinks that at any second Auguste’s mouth will drop to the floor or a crown of birds will appear above his head. 

 

Patton wants to kiss him.

 

But Auguste beats him to it. 

 

It’s everything he’s imagined, it’s sweet, it’s slow, and Patton knows that Auguste loves him. “Finally,” Auguste says, smiling, their foreheads sticking together. 

 

A weird feeling crawls up Patton’s back like he’s being watched, but he looks up and no one’s there. Until he spots a hunched over figure in the distance, he wonders what happened to that person today to make him so sad. Something inside him wants to cheer him up. 

 

“Is something the matter?” Auguste asks, his face turning serious. Patton’s looking elsewhere, his mind somewhere else.

 

“No,”

 

“Then why do you look like that?” 

 

Patton is taken aback, he doesn't know what to say. He never thought himself much, but he didn’t think Auguste would…

 

“I - ”

 

“Was the kiss bad?” Auguste asks, agitated. 

 

“No - Of course not - it was great, just -”

 

Auguste’s food was padding the floor, and Patton felt like he had messed up. Done  _ something _ wrong. He just couldn’t seem to guess why Auguste was mad. 

 

“Do you not like me?” 

 

“I do.”

 

Auguste smiles, his face that was once just dirty with fury, now polished with relief. “Good.”

 

“Good.” Patton says, smiling. Giddy. 

 

And then Auguste crashes his lips against Patton’s once more. It is sloppy and fast. The rain is falling harder and all PAtton can think of the first day they met. It was raining, it was a warm autumn night. Tonight was almost a matching pair to that night. Patton had thought at the time that Auguste was going to be a big part of his life, and he was right. Auguste was everything to Patton.

 

And that’s when Auguste says, “Stop.”

 

Patton halts, drawing his face apart from Auguste, still smiling.

 

Patton is happy until he hears the words, “I need you to stop seeing your friends.” And that’s when Patton’s smile slides off his face. 

 

“Why?” It’s a simple one-word question, but Patton thinks his world is turning over. It feels like earth barreling right towards the sun. He feels like one of Icarus’s  feathers, and he wants to know why Auguste doesn’t like his friends,  _ if _ he doesn’t like his friends. 

 

“You haven’t done anything wrong, I want you to know. It’s just - I don’t trust them.” 

 

 

Patton’s eyes are red from the tears that he had just been crying, but now they threaten to spill more. “Oh.” He says, looking down at his hands emptily.

 

Auguste is frowning when he lifts Patton’s chin to look him in the eyes, “You like me?” Patton nodded fervently at that. He loved Auguste. 

 

Auguste dropped Patton’s chin, disgust starting to turn his face rotten. “If you like me, I don’t know why you can’t do this for me.” 

 

 

Patton gulped, he was shaking again. But this time, so was Auguste. It was different for Patton, though. Auguste was red, shaking, quaking, from his vexation. Patton was shaking almost out of fear. Not real fear, though. He could never be scared with Auguste. 

 

“Especially Logan.” 

 

Patton is crying. Long choking sobs. He loves his friends, but he doesn’t want to hurt Auguste. He guesses his friend would be fine without them.

 

“I’m so sorry, Patton. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Just stop talking to them, okay?” Auguste is gentle, comforting Patton. Stroking his cheek, sweetly. 

 

Patton’s sobs don’t slow. 

 

“I have to go, are you okay?” Auguste is adjusting his jacket, picking his bag off from the rain-soaked ground. Patton thinks in the back of his mind that he hopes that it hadn’t gotten wet. 

 

Patton just nods. 

 

Auguste is running away from him. He is sprinting away in the rain. This time, he doesn’t trip. This time he doesn’t fall. Patton doesn’t know why he wants him to, he doesn’t know why he wants to go pick him up from the ground at smile at him. He doesn’t know why he wishes that Auguste would come back and why Patton wants to demand why he can’t see his friends.

 

He doesn’t do any of those things for Auguste doesn’t fall. But for some reason, Patton feels like he is. 

 

.

.

.

 

Patton follows Auguste’s rules. He doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t even look in anyone’s direction. He’s looking everywhere else. The cabinets, the fridge, the chairs. Wait, not the chairs Remy is sitting there. Dylan is opening the cabinets. Virgil is grabbing a snack out of the fridge. Apparently, he came over today. Apparently, so did Roman. 

 

Patton pretends he doesn’t hear them, the only thing he does to let them know he’s fine is a smile at every word he hears. 

 

He yearns to talk to them, wishes he could rush over to them and tell them that he has tickets to Thomas Sanders. Say that he wished to bring them along, too. Ask why  Auguste doesn’t like them. Ask if they can try harder to impress Auguste. Tell them he doesn’t like them. 

 

But he doesn’t. He gave his word, and Patton isn’t a bad person. He won’t go behind someone’s back. 

 

So, he doesn’t talk to the others. And the others are worried, Patton can tell. He doesn’t say anything.

 

Everyone is looking at him all day, confused. Distraught, curious, concern. Virgil almost looks sad, Dylan heart broken, Remy has a mean look in his eyes. Remy and Virgil have openly complaining. They’ve brought Auguste’s name a couple times. Patton tries not to flinch. 

 

At night, he’s getting ready for the show. 

 

He’s wearing white shorts and a yellow collared shirt with a bee on the breast pocket. He likes it. He wishes he could have asked for Dylan’s help, though. 

 

The walls aren’t so thick, and he hears Roman’s voice. Patton’s room next to the living room. They’re talking about Patton, about Auguste. They’re bothered, they think Auguste is changing Patton. Patton wants to burst into the living room, screaming it isn’t Auguste’s fault but he can’t. He won’t. He apologizes to Auguste silently for not being able to upheld his name, as he stays in his room, adjusting his collar. 

 

Roman is trying to reason with them, “Maybe he’s just going through a phase. A funk? You can’t expect someone to be happy  _ all  _ the time.” 

 

Patton nods, biting his fingernails.  _ That’s logical thinking, Roman. Yes, let them know I’m okay.  _

 

“He doesn’t go through phases, he’s never sad.” Virgil says, a bite in his voice. Vicious. Protective.

 

“He’s right, I’ve never seen him a day without a smile on his face, chatting our ears off. He’s a good listener, sure, but he always wants to say something. To make sure the other person knows they’ve been listening. He’s not one to ignore.” Dylan adds, and Patton can swear he can hear the smile on his face. Patton covers his mouth to keep himself from saying anything.

 

And then a knock comes at the door, and Patton rushes out of his bedroom to answer it. He ignores the shocked looks coming from everyone in the living room. He swing open the door to Auguste, he’s wearing a white tee that has cookie monster on it and some ripped skinny jeans. Auguste brushes past Patton at the sight of everyone in the living room.

 

Everyone’s expressions are dead, like they’ve been watching a movie and they only now just opened their eyes from the nap they were trying to take. Patton wants to laugh. He doesn’t, especially now that Auguste’s here. 

 

Patton is shyly smiling when Auguste turns back to Patton, looking him up and down, “Is that what you’re wearing? Aren’t you showing a bit too much skin?” He asks, disgust wrinkled into his face, and Patton’s face falls. 

 

Patton looks down at his clothes, he quite liked his outfit. But if Auguste didn’t then -

 

“He’s fine, thanks for your concern.” Remy says, his eyes still dead, looking at Auguste.

 

Auguste’s face contorts, “What? Did he dress you?” He’s asking Patton.

 

“What does it matter when you’re being a rude bitch?” Virgil cuts in.

 

“Did you  _ talk _ to them?” Auguste’s face is getting redder, Patton wants to ask him to calm down but he just shakes his head no.

 

Auguste lets out a sigh of relief, “Alright, then. Let’s go.” He grabs ahold of Patton’s hand and is tugging him out the door despite the desperate cries of his friends inside. 

 

Patton mumbles out an apology, and he can the appalled looks on their faces. 

 

He stumbles into the hallway, Auguste’s grip still a bit too tight for comfort. “I’m sorry, Auguste. I didn’t talk to them, I did what you said.”

 

Auguste’s fury falters, stepping back to look at Patton. A small, tired, smile unfurls onto his face. “I know it isn’t your fault, Patton. You did nothing wrong. I’m just glad you’re not hanging out with them any longer.” 

 

Patton wants to smile at the praise but he can’t seem to bring the corners of his lips up. 

 

.

.

.

 

The curtains draw, and the lights brighten. 

 

The musical was incredible and Patton considers once more to start a fanclub for Thomas Sanders. 

 

Patton had listened to the soundtrack a million times over, but it certainly wasn’t as good as the live. Thomas’s performance was amazing his acting phenomenal, his voice, oh goodness, his voice. It was so sweet it gave Patton nostalgia of his mother’s laugh at the late hours of the night. He wished he could see it again. 

 

“That was...amazing.” Patton says, looking up into Auguste’s eyes.

 

Auguste’s eyes brighten with mischevion. “Well, it’s not over yet.” He says, procuring two passes. Patton titled his head to read the words, “Backstage Pass.”

 

Patton was squealing and Auguste was laughing. “I can’t believe it, how did you - “

 

Auguste just gave a tight-lipped smile, a finger to his lips, “Shhh, it’s a secret.” He winks at Patton and tell him to follow him. Patton, of course, follows obligingly. 

 

They go behind the curtain and when Patton sees Thomas, he thinks he might pass out. And funnily enough, they look a bit similar. Patton almost trots right up next to Thomas, not caring to not look like a fanboy. 

 

Thomas turns to Patton, jumping, not knowing that there was someone there. “Oh hi! What’s your name?” He asks, reaching out to take Patton’s playbill to sign. 

 

“Patton.”Auguste says, answering for Patton beating him to the catch. Patton looks over at him to see his eyes glazed over with something of...jealousy? Patton doesn’t think anything of it, shaking his head. 

 

“I’ve been a huge fan of yours, for years. I’ve always wanted to see you live and-” Patton starts, racing to say every word he’s rehearsed for years.

 

Thomas chuckles, a wide goofy grin spread on his face, “Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet! Thank you so much.” He says, appreciatively, tilting his head in adoration. 

 

Patton’s smile grows as he continues, “ - and, oh my goodness. If my friends knew that I was here I think they’d faint. I kinda wish they were here with me but -”  Thomas eyes were traveling every wild and frantic gesture he was making, his eyes purposefully widening when patton’s did, trying to hide his uncontrollable chortle.

 

“But he isn’t friends with them anymore.” Auguste finishes, glaring at Patton, bringing back his gaze to Thomas to give him a bitter smile. Thomas’s smile wavered.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry but I think you have to go make sure your passes are valid over ther.” Thomas says pointing over to the security guard.

 

“Oh, okay, sorry.” Patton says, turning till Thomas catches his sleeve.

 

Thomas looks down at him, “Only one you has to go, I’m sure they’re not faked.” 

 

 

Patton frowns as Auguste gives a grumpy shrug and saunters over to the security guard. 

 

Patton turns back to a distressed Thomas.  “Hey, are you… alright?” Thomas asks, looking unsettled. 

 

Paton’s face feels itchy when he puts on a brand new smile. He wants to take it off, but his voice doesn’t shake at all when he says, “What do you mean?”

 

He’s not lying. He truthfully doesn’t know what Thomas means. Why he’s worried for a nobody like Patton. He doesn’t know his face feels itchy and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel like smiling. He’s meeting his lifelong idol, he’s with the person he loved, he’s happy...right?

 

Thomas shakes his head, “Nothing, sorry. Nevermind. Just be careful, okay?”

 

Patton pulled his skin taut smiling, his skin turning white, “Mmmhmm.”

 

Auguste showed up again, “Your security guard didn’t know what I was talking about.” 

 

Thomas shrugged, “I guess we stopped doing it. Sorry, I forgot.”

 

Auguste raised a brow, but said they had to go, steering Patton off of the stage. PAtton was looking over his shoulder at Thomas. Thomas was looking at him, like he had wanted to say more, like he wished Patton would listen. Patton was scared, but only for a second when thinking about how much he loved Auguste. 

 

“Not everyone’s as sweet as you, Patton.” He thinks he sees Thomas mouths, but before he can look for answers in his eyes, Thomas is talking to someone else. 

 

“Patton?” Auguste asks, voice careful. Gentle. 

 

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

 

“I just paid hundreds of dollars for you to come to a musical with me  _ with backstage passes _ , and you can’t tell me why you’re upset?” Auguste says, growing angry.

 

Patton was tired. He’d wish Auguste didn’t get angry so much. He’s tired of explaining, tired of false smiles, tired of seeing Auguste’s beautiful face made into something ugly. But Patton doesn’t say anything, so Auguste boulders on, crushing everything in his path.

 

“You’re such a selfish piece of shit. I don’t know why I’m even dating you.” Auguste says, as they leave the theater.

 

Patton feels like someone just stuck a stake into his heart. He feels like his guts were just torn out. He feels… heart broken. He wants to say something.  _ Speak, you piece of shit. He’s right you’re terrible. Why aren’t you fighting for him? _ Auguste is already walking away and Patton wants to reach out, he wants to see his friends. He wants someone. 

 

He’s grasping at straws trying to hold on to the little he has left, he wants his friends. He wants someone. He wants

 

someone

 

please

 

He misses Dylan’s sly comments and mischievous eyes, and his torn up clothes. He wants to hug Virgil’s scowling face. He needs Remy’s motherly sassiness. He wishes to laugh at Roman’s laugh. He yearns for Logan’s outlandish tangents about a meerkat’s mating cycle. 

 

He feels like he’s drowning. He feels like the water is swallowing him, and he can’t find the surface, blurry bubbles clouding over his vision. 

 

_ I’m worthless _

 

_ I’m nothing _

 

Not even Auguste loves him. 

 

He requires his friends. 

 

And so he goes to them.

 

.

.

.

 

Patton is running home, the rain is pouring and he are so his tears. He trips on his laces every couple meters, he’s fallen. His jeans are coated in mud, scraped with cuts and bruises now. His shoes are ruined and his shoulders are sagging. His breathing is heavy and rushed, and his heart is pounding so loud in his ears he can’t hear anything else. He sees his building and he thinks he’s never been more relieved. 

 

But then

 

Auguste.

 

Auguste is standing by the entrance of the door, and he rushes up to Patton. Auguste’s eyes are rimmed red matching PAtton’s. He is sobbing, his tears creating a pair’s with Patton’s. Auguste grasps Patton in a big embrace. 

 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

 

Patton is nodding, he’s just happy for the warmth that Auguste brings with him. His face is dirty as he sinks it into Auguste’s raincoat. Tears are still streaming down at his face when he looks into Auguste’s eyes. Hazel meets powder blues, and Patton thinks he falls in love again. 

 

“I love you.” He thinks the words came from his mouth, the exact thought had just came to his mind, but his surprise is fresh when he realizes Auguste had said it. Patton thinks his heart might burst, it might pop, he’s so overflowed with joy he thinks he could stay here for the rest of eternity underneath the roof of his apartment building, hugging Auguste, replaying those three words in his mind over and over. 

 

“I love you, too.” Patton says, his voice breaking. 

 

For a minute they are just looking at each other, the rain pounding on above them. The soft clunk of them hitting the roof, the loud pouring on the sidewalks, the cars that roar on the roads around them. Their matching smiles, full of awe and flurry, and  _ love.  _ Patton lets him think this is a movie, and this moment, right here, is his happy ending. He thinks it is the best it could possibly be. 

 

“Move in with me.” 

 

Patton doesn’t think he heard him right but before he can respond, Auguste is kissing him. Patton doesn’t object letting himself be overwhelmed by Auguste and letting his ears go numb from the cold. 

 

“Yes.” Patton says, breathy and sure.

 

.

.

 

.

 

Auguste finally lets him go upstairs, and Patton is dazed. Dazed with love and happiness. He thinks he’s never been happier. The high of “I love you’s” and moving in with someone he loves. They decided Patton will start moving in tomorrow afternoon after his shift at  _ Barista’s Toe Beans _ . 

 

He unkeys the lock to the apartment and steps in breathing in the remnants of the smells of Dylan’s cooking. He expects to see them all waiting for him in the living room to ask how it went but they aren’t. He remembers how late it is and is relieved. The only two there are Roman and Virgil. Virgil is asleep on Roman’s lap, slightly drooling, Roman is awake looking down at Virgil, brushing the hair out of Virgil’s eyes, looking up to see Patton by the door. 

 

“Hey.” Roman says, looking surprised to see Patton.

 

“Hi.” Patton says, waving shyly. He goes over to the couch to sit down. 

 

Roman smiles tiredly, “How was it?”

 

Patton smiles back, almost glowing with delight, “Perfect. The best.” 

 

“I’m glad.” Roman closes his eyes, and starts to hum a lullaby when Patton interrupts:

 

“Why are you up?” 

 

Roman lifted one eyelid to look at Patton, “Virgil was worried,” He snorts, looking at Virgil lovingly,  and continues, “But he fell asleep, so I’ve had to stay up.” 

 

Patton frowns, “He shouldn’t have been, and you shouldn’t have. See, one piece?” Patton says, gestring down at himself, smiling. 

 

Roman furrows his brows, “We should have, and I have. Auguste doesn’t seem to be like the person someone should openly trust. Whether you like him or not, you have to be careful with your heart, Patton. I’ve heard enough about it to know it’s special. 

 

Patton flushes, “I...I love him.”

 

Roman shakes his head, “I don’t understand that. I’m sorry. If I’m being honest, I share Virgil’s standpoint. I don’t you should be with him. Virgil isn’t wrong when he says he treats you wrong.”

 

And there they were. Roman was staring at Patton, hoping deeply that maybe he could just convince Patton not to be with Auguste. Patton staring at the coffee table, to nervous to look up, afraid to see what was in Roman’s eyes, scared of what it could hold. 

 

“I’m going to go to bed.” Patton says, standing up and going to his bedroom.

 

“Be careful, Patton.” 

 

_ Why was everyone saying that? _

 

.

.

.

 

Patton goes to work the next morning, his eyes that dragged with him, the weight of the deep bags that circled his eyes. Exhaustion numbing his emotions just a little bit. Exhilaration still fresh in his bones form last night’s revelation of Auguste loving him, him agreeing him to move in, meeting Thomas Sanders. It all feels like a hazy dream. 

 

And then, Patton sees Logan in line and he smiles. Logan smiles back trotting up to the counter. Patton lets himself think for a second that Logan’s endearing when he smiles. He decides that Logan should smile more. He says so.

 

“I- umm, I -” Logan blushes bright red, trying to hide a smile. He clears his throat, adjusting his tie. He’s looking everywhere but at Patton. Patton giggles.

 

Logan’s eyes are like waves at the beach coated in the radiance of children playing in the pits of sand. Patton is starting to realize that Logan is not the cool guy he  pretends to be. In fact, he is quite the mess. Especially when you compliment him. 

 

“I’m not lying when I say I’d like to see it more. Your smile, I mean. It softens your face, and makes your eyes glisten like seas.” Patton finishes, mischief in his eyes. 

 

Logan is laughing, and then coughing, and almost choking. He is smiling.  _ He  _ is trying to hide it. He is avoiding Patton’s gaze, looking everywhere else. Patton thinks - but only for a second - that Logan would be easy to fall in love with. Patton lets himself enjoy the simple thought of an alternate universe where Auguste didn’t exist and he had met Logan first, and they had gotten together instead.

 

Patton made himself crack up sometimes. 

 

“You’re very...interesting Patton Parker.” 

 

“Alright, Logan. What can I get ya?” Patton asks with a cheerful peppiness. 

 

But then the bell rang, and in stepped Auguste. 

 

Patton’s smile grew brighter but Logan’s wasn’t existent anymore. Patton wished he’d pull it out, again. He didn’t say that, though, because Auguste was here. And he loved Auguste. 

 

Auguste was smiling but at the sight of Logan, his face faltered and grew sour. Patton never understood why Auguste was particularly sour around Logan. Auguste pulls up next to Patton with a wicked grin. Patton hated it.

 

And all of a sudden, Auguste was looking at Logan dead in the eyes and Logan was looking back. And then a tongue was being dragged down Patton’s cheek and revulsion kicked Patton’s stomach. Auguste was licking Patton’s cheek. 

 

“Sorry there was some sugar there.” Auguste explains, still looking at Logan. 

 

“What was that, Auguste?” Patton asks, irritation - something he didn’t express much - apparent in his voice.

 

Auguste looked at him like it was a ridiculous question, “What do you mean? I was marking my territory.”

 

“Marking your territory? Why?” Patton looks at Logan, and then back to Auguste.

 

Auguste laughs cruelly, “Don’t you see it? No, you’re too naive aren’t you? He likes you, Patton. You’ve barely had a conversation yet he thinks that you could be his. Well, guess what?” He says, turning to Logan, “Patton’s mine, not yours. So back off.”

 

Logan is bright red. Patton can’t tell if it’s out of embarrassment or anger, like always, and is shrinking back. Surely, it can’t be true. Him and Logan were just friends… they weren’t…

 

Did Logan really like him? Patton wasn’t sure why that made his heart flutter, but he definitely wanted it to stop. He liked Auguste, after all. 

 

Logan tightened his tie around his neck, and having almost a foot over Auguste, (almost a foot and a half for Patton,) he loomed tall over Auguste, his presence chilling the room by eighty degrees. His eyes was no longer like a beach and now, storm clouds over witheringly dark skies. He wore a car crash smile that said that something had happened to him, the curves of his mouth more like the tips of knives. 

 

Oddly, Patton wasn’t scared. He was not shaking. He felt he knew what he was facing, and he trusted Logan. He hadn’t known him for very long, but he knew in his heart that Logan was honorable. 

 

The same could not be said for Auguste. Patton wasn’t  _ completely  _ sure, but he was pretty sure Auguste had soiled himself. He definitely acted like it. 

 

“Patton is not a play thing that you can drag around. He is not an object you can claim. Although I had no intentions to have him, your pursuits are not wanted by anyone who loves him.” Logan says, belittling Auguste with every word.

 

Patton had known, of course, that Logan hadn’t liked him. But it was definitely nice to hear it from his mouth. 

 

Auguste’s mouth was open, agape, dropped. If this was a cartoon his jawline would be on the floor wand he would have no means to pick it up. Auguste looked beyond furious, enraged, like he could tear down the building. But it was nothing compared to shattering confidence and coolness that Logan had dominated the room with. 

 

“I’ll go to the other counter, asshole. Thanks your time, Patton.” Smiling at his last words, Logan went to go to the cash register that Virgil was manning. 

 

And that’s when Patton’s attention focused on everyone else on the cafe. 

 

Virgil looked like a kid who had just found iron man on the streets, looking at Logan. Remy looked unbelievably amused and has just been delivered the hottest tea, and Dylan looked… well let’s just say he was not as composed as Logan. 

 

Although Patton was a little concerned that one of the customer’s would complain about slow business, he also thought that they’d probably be entertained enough. Logan was just asking casually for his order, as Virgil mindlessly scribbles it onto a cup, still looking at Logan in shock. Logan thanked him and pulled up to the next counter. 

 

Patton turns to Auguste, and tries to kiss him to make him feel better. Auguste turns away before Patton can, and looks at Patton with thunder in his eyes, “If you can’t follow my rules, we can’t be together, you understand that right?” he whispers, voice low to avoid attention.

 

Patton had forgotten that Auguste had forbid him from talking to his friends, and cursed himself for his conversation with Roman last night, and this morning’s with Logan, (the most recent one, especially.)

 

“Yes, I - understand. I’ll try harder. I promise. It’s just - it’s hard.” Patton explains, voice cracking. 

 

“Whatever, get your boxes and drive to my house after work.”

 

Patton lets out a sigh of relief as Auguste walks away without him yelling at him. 

 

A voice from the line comes, “Y’know I ship the curly blonde twink with the tall, dark, and handsome more than the dumbo pinocchio spiky haired guy. Tbh, Pinocchio is like way out of the curly blond twink’s league, and also, kind of a douchebag.” 

 

Patton turns to the voice, sure that it’s Remy but he looks and Remy isn’t here and seems to be in the breakroom. 

 

But when he looks, he sees Dylan looking at him horrified.

 

He heard their conversation. 

 

.

.

.

 

When they all get home from work, he knows Dylan wants to talk to him, but Paton can’t bring himself to. Instead, he goes to hide in his room as he hypes himself up enough to go tell them the news. The news, that he’s moving out to move in with Auguste. 

 

He eventually goes out into the living room and Roman and Logan are there too and his heart breaks a little. Jealousy is a pool in his stomach. Apparently, they’ve become much better friends with Logan, he’s Patton’s replacement. Patton wants to throw up at the thought that one day they’ll forgot him. 

 

He wants to cry. But he’s cried so much, already. He’s sick of crying. 

 

At the sight of Patton, Remy beckons him to come over and hug him. Patton knows he is a sorry sight. But he stays still, and not without determination does he avoid the urges to go over there and just cry into his shoulders. 

 

_ Why do I wanna cry all the time? _

 

Remy looks wounded when Patton doesn’t move, and his mouth opens, and closes, opens, closes. He’s looking at Dylan now, but Dylan doesn’t know, he’s looking at Patton.

 

“Please, don’t leave, Patton.” 

 

Patton’s eyes start to bubble with water. 

 

“What?” Virgil asks, terror leaking into his eyes and angry brows. He stands up, quickly.

 

“What is he talking about, Patton?” 

 

Dylan’s eyes are watering and Patton’s are already sporting tears. “I have to go.”

 

Virgil’s eyes are rimmed red, he is shaking, he is cradling himself. Everyone knows that Patton had been a father figure for him, helping him through his anxiety, cuddling with him on especially tough nights. “Don’t tell me what you’re about to tell me.”

 

“He’s moving in with Auguste. He’s already agreed to it. He’s moving in tonight. He’s leaving us.” Dylan finishes, silent tears leaking down his face that match Patton’s. His eyes are dead, and full of nothing, he is staring at the ground mirroring Patton looking at his hands. 

 

“NO! I won’t let you with that son of a bitch, Patton. He hurts you - he -” Virgil’s voice is cracking, he’s shaking Patton’s shoulders, desperate. He’s heaving, and he’s drowning. He sounds like he’s at a shortness of breath. 

 

He’s having an anxiety attack. 

 

And all of a sudden, Patton’s world was tipping. Sinking. 

 

Auguste was an iceberg and his friends were the Titanic and they were barreling right towards danger and Patton didn’t know what to do. 

 

Patton had dealt with Virgil’s attacks a million times over, but now, he was frozen in place. The iceberg was hitting and he was breaking. The boat couldn’t move any  longer. Roman rushed to action. He took Virgil out of the room, despite his kicking and screaming. 

 

Patton looked to Logan. 

 

He was looking at Patton. Patton didn’t know in what exact way Logan was looking at him, but it made it feel like Logan was peeling back layers of his skin. It got under his skin. It made him want to scream and shout. Logan didn’t look intimidating. The problem was that he looked vulnerable. He looked like if you laid a hand on him, he’d break. He looked like he’d been screwed over by the world so many times that didn’t come as a surprise to him, but it still hurt. There was so much raw emotion in the look that Patton couldn’t keep looking. 

 

But he wanted to.

 

“Why do you love him?” Logan asks, voice empty. Like a jar full of air, not a sound emphasized to indicate feeling. Mechanical and dry. 

 

Dylan was too dead to say anything about the “L word” but he flinched, and Remy finally looked away from Dylan to Logan. 

 

Patton’s tears seemed to leak faster. They seemed to come faster than ever. For a second, he considered wanting to drown in them. 

 

“Honestly?” Patton asks, voice splitting, and Logan just nodded tightly.

 

“Right place, right time?” 

 

Logan flinches so hard he looks like he was just hit by a bludgeon.

 

.

.

.

 

 

When Patton moved into Auguste’s he was happy. He thinks. Yes, he’s happy. Of course he is. 

 

He doesn’t worry about Virgil.

 

He doesn’t wish Remy would have said  _ something _ .

 

He doesn’t want to thank Roman for helping Virgil.

 

He doesn’t yearn to apologize to Dylan for everything. 

 

And he definitely doesn't think about Logan. 

 

Patton wants to talks to them. He wants to invite them over. 

 

They had always said when Patton moves out it’d be awkward with everyone because he was the glue. Without him, they were just a bunch of polar opposites. Patton sure hopes not. He hopes they move on. He hopes that

 

Well

 

He hopes that

 

He hopes

 

What does he want.

 

Auguste?

 

Yes, he loves Auguste. He’s doing this for him. If Auguste wants it, he’ll have it. He deserves that much. If he puts up with being with Patton, he deserves this. He deserves to have all of Patton. Despite this, Patton hasn’t deleted everyone’s numbers. He knows he should. He knows Auguste would be mad if he found out, but he  can’t bring himself to delete them. 

 

Right now, Auguste is getting pizza. Correction: Auguste is getting pizza and Patton is bored. His fingers are hovering over several different chats. He wants to click on one. And he doesn’t. Until

 

 

1-800-799-7233

  
  


 

It’s from Dylan. 

 

Patton’s finger is hovering over the group chat.

 

And he clicks into it. 

 

The read sign pops up, and messages come in in waterfalls.

 

 

He wants to say yes, but he can’t bring himself to. That would be betraying Auguste. 

 

After trying to figure out the number over and over, he calls it.

 

“Hello, this is the domestic abuse hotline -” 

 

Patton drops his phone like it’s a thousand degrees, his fingers feel burnt. He feels dirty. 

 

Does Dylan think he’s being abused? Cause he’s not. Of course, he isn’t. Auguste treats him like he’s his moon and stars. He treats him like he’s his everything. He just wants to protect him, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect the ones you love. He’s just scared.

 

You can’t fault someone for being scared. 

 

Patton almost wants to laugh, but he can’t even cough out a chuckle. 

 

But then

 

Why are his fingers typing in the number?

 

Why are his eyes wet?

 

Why his finger hovering over call once more?

 

Why does he want to call it?

 

It’s safe to just make sure right? Just to check?

 

No, that’s insane. Auguste is his everything and vice versa. He’d never hurt Patton. Patton is delusional to think that maybe

 

But maybe he should just check -

 

 

No. Doesn’t that make him abusive if he calls? If he wrongfully calls someone else? 

 

No. It’s all stupid. 

 

Patton is happy, he can’t be abused.

 

Wow, what a ridiculous thought to have. 

 

Being abused? Not Patton Parker

 

.

.

.

 

Auguste comes home with the pizza in hand, smiling when he sees Patton on the couch. He has pizza and Patton is happy. It doesn’t smell as good as Dylan’s but, it smells good. Auguste isn’t abusive. He gets him things. He gets him pizza. 

 

If he was abusive, Patton would be scared? Right? And Patton wasn’t scared right now. Patton could never be scared with Auguste. He was the equivalence of a cuddle  with a puppy. The warmth of a mother’s hug. In fact, he’s everything but scary. He’s hot chocolate on a chilly winter’s night. 

 

He’s who Patton loves, and who loves Patton. He would never hurt him. 

.

.

.

 

Auguste says he has to quit his job, which isn’t a big deal. Patton hasn’t gone to work the past couple of days, so quitting shouldn’t be hard. But it was. It was where Patton had met them all, and so many memories clinged to it. 

 

Logan and his pitch black coffee. Virgil trying to blend the coffee but then forgot to put on the lid, so it went everywhere, and they had to clean it up before anyone else noticed. Remy walking in for the first time before working there, asking for the most complicated order possible and Dylan being able to get his order done in under two minutes flat. Patton’s first day and him being too shy to make conversations with the customers. 

 

But he quit it. He called in, and luckily, someone he didn’t know answered the phone. He said his name was Patton Parker and he was quitting, and before anyone else could come on, he hung up. 

 

His phone went off a lot after that. 

 

He wishes they’d stop texting him. 

 

If they didn’t Auguste might see.

 

He’d get mad.

 

Patton had learned he hadn’t really liked Auguste when he was mad. 

 

.

.

.

 

One night, Patton forgets to turn his phone all the way off when Auguste got home. 

 

Patton smiles at Auguste when he walks through the door, tonight he hadn’t brought home any food but Patton had been bored all day doing nothing so he welcomed  entertainment. But then Patton’s phone buzzes.

 

Auguste doesn’t take notice, and keeps kissing Patton from hairline to jawline. But then, it goes off, again.

 

Again.

 

Again.

 

Again.

 

Patton’s heart starts to stumble, trying to reach over to his phone to turn it on silent before Auguste gets too suspicious, but it’s too late. 

 

Auguste plucks Patton’s phone out of his fingers, and his face contorts into fury, madness, rage. Red, fiery hot rampage. He sees all the names on the lockdown and Patton is nervous. He is shaking. He can’t sit still. He’s scared, he hopes for all the world that Auguste will still keep him. 

 

Dylan always used to say that a lie of omission wasn’t really a lie but Patton couldn’t disagree more. 

 

Auguste’s temper is bubbling, frothing, blowing up like a volcano. Patton knows that the destruction will be of Pompeii’s extent. He wishes it wouldn’t. 

 

“What’s the fucking passcode, Patton?” Auguste says, anger boiling. Patton mumbles out the four digits and Auguste presses on. Patton wonders why Auguste is looking at him like that. Did Logan finally text him, was it bad?

 

 

and on the screen is the number.

 

 

1-800-799-7233

 

 

Auguste presses it, and the dam is broke. 

 

 

The words are the only thing you can hear in the apartment that isn’t Auguste’s heavy breathing. 

 

Patton’s world is blurry, he is dizzy, he feels sick he feels like he could -

 

Patton is throwing up

 

He’s throwing up on Auguste, the carpet, and the couch, and he can do nothing about it besides just continue retching. 

 

Through the pounding in his ears, and his heart drilling his ribs, he can hear Auguste faintly. “You think I abuse you? I do nothing but worship you? You selfish piece of shit.” He grabs Patton by the hair, throwing him up against the wall. 

 

Patton is bleeding from the nose, vomit is crusting on chapped lips, tears are at his eyes.

 

 

**He’s never been more afraid in his life.**

 

 

Patton can’t hear anything, but he can feel the kicks that hit his ribcage, he can feel the punches that land on his face. He can feel the spit that hits his face.

 

 

_ I am worthless _

 

_ I am nothing _

 

_ Why aren’t I dead _

 

 

If someone he loves, someone that loves him, can agree then it must be true.

 

and then

 

**black**

 

.

.

.

 

 

Patton doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep.

 

He does know, his left eye is crusted shut, his body is sore.

 

He looks down at himself and he is bruised black and blue, the colors of  your mother’s garden, the colors of a night sky. He doesn’t understand how he go to be like  this. He thinks it isn’t real. What did he do wrong? Why does he deserve this? Auguste loves him doesn’t he? Patton loves Auguste.

 

Patton looks up and Auguste is there. He is crying.  _ Why is he crying? _ He is talking.

 

“I’m so sorry, Patton. I - I didn’t mean to it just - I just. I love you, Patton. I adore you, please forgive me.” His words are chopped, incoherent. Barely audible through the sobs. His breath is now drenched with alcohol. 

 

“I forgive you.”

 

He hoped Auguste hadn’t drank too much was his last thought before falling back to sleep.

.

.

.

 

Auguste is yelling at him, screaming at him. Saying something about falling asleep during a conversation was rude but Patton couldn’t hear all the words. Patton said he loves Auguste. Auguste calls him stupid. 

 

“If you really love me, you’d never leave me.” 

 

“I’ll never leave you.”

 

Auguste smiles wickedly, “Thank you, Patton. Can I treat your wounds, now?”

 

Patton nods sleepily, falling back asleep.

 

.

.

.

 

Patton is awake again

 

 

 

And the yelling continues

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, guys. This chapter was really sad to write
> 
>  
> 
> again the number for domestic abuse is  
> 1-800-799-7233  
> and the number for suicide prevention is  
> 1-800-273-8255  
> please get help when you need help  
> if you don't live in america, there is still a number, you can find it easily online.
> 
>  
> 
> I plan on posting on Thursday, Feb 7th  
> but i may post earlier so idk


	5. So happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, Oh my goodness, y'all are so sweet. Your comments, and kudos, and support have been overwhelming me. 
> 
> Second of all, we do have fanart for the fic!!!! My sister, having forced me into this has presented me with this beautiful fan art  
> https://aminoapps.com/c/thomassanders/page/blog/receit-yall/jbXl_5XfKu3lB3gkw04NDXzz4GmoPg86En
> 
> Third, i know this chapter is RIDICULOUSLY short, but I promise next one will be longer than any of them before, I just had to type up something for today. Hopefully yall aren't too disappointed. 
> 
> Fourth thing, is that this does reference some abuse, not very explicit, but still be careful, please. 
> 
> And finally, we have reached 15000 words, and I can't believe i've written something this long honestly. I know last chapter it was 10000 and i wasn't that far away from 15000, but it still means a lot to me. 
> 
> I hope yall enjoy this short ass chapter and i think i forgot to say it last time but  
> lmao beware of swearies.

Patton is drained. He hasn’t had much of a good night’s sleep in what feels like weeks but he’s sure days. Dawn and dusk blend into something of an endless night. Auguste hasn’t said anything about Patton being able to leave the apartment so he’s just stayed, scared of what might happen if he disobeyed rules. 

Today, though, he is feeling particularly lonely. His late night chats with Auguste have been shortening along with Patton’s shortness of breath growing. Is chest hurting with every breath. He wishes to go to the hospital, but at the mention of one Auguste freaked out. He threw a book at Patton, and Patton had agreed silently to never talk of one again. He grew to become scared of public services. His phone had been smashed when he had awoken from his slumber, a couple days after the incident, but even if he had it, he wouldn’t call anyone. Wouldn’t say anything. He was too scared too. 

Until, today. 

 

He had sent Auguste off to work with a smile, but the intentions of being a lier. Patton loathed himself when he slipped into some new clothes. He loathed himself when he patted on coats of makeup to cover up the bruises and cuts that painted his face an ominous sunset. He loathed himself when he left the apartment, hoping deeply that Auguste wouldn’t come over before him. 

 

.

.

.

 

Patton would be running, but when he had tried, his lungs had been searching for an excess of air that he hadn’t been able to access. So Patton had just decided to just walk briskly, the pain not worth the gain.

Once he reached the doors to  _ Barista’s Toe Beans _ , he could only look through the windows. When reaching for the door, his hands stilled, as he couldn’t bring himself to open it. He could just stare at his hands before someone had wanted to get in, looked at him funny. Patton had shuffled out of the way, backing away from the door. 

Patton considered running back to the apartment. Auguste would come back, he’d call him a good boy, and Patton would go to bed happy not scared. But as his shoes scuffed the concrete of the floors, turning away from the door, Dylan’s eyes caught on him. 

 

Patton’s heart hammered in his chest, and it hurt but he didn’t care. At the sight of Patton, Dylan had dropped his marker and ran to Patton, forgetting the people in line, diligently waiting for their coffees. (Although, recently, their tea.)

 

Dylan had tears in his eyes, and Patton didn’t. But it didn’t matter when Dylan had pulled Patton into a hug, and it hadn’t mattered when Dylan was shaking, and Patton was holding him. 

 

It almost seemed like their positions were reversed. 

 

“You’re back.” Dylan says, breathy, pulling back from his embrace. 

 

Patton could just nod, not wanting to break his joy by saying that he wouldn’t be back for long. Dylan smiles at him and pulls at his wrist, tugging him inside. Saying something about how they’d make him the best hot chocolate in town. Patton flinched at the touch, his wrists aching. Dylan hadn’t noticed. 

 

Patton breathes out a sigh of relief. 

 

“Look who’s here.” Remy said, a slight grin spreading onto his face.    
  


Virgil, previously busy with blending the coffee into its sugary goodness, turned with annoyance. “Remy, I’m really not up for your shit today -” Virgil cuts himself off, seeing Patton. His face lights up like a dog’s once his owner had returned. Patton wants to smile, but he can’t bring himself to. He doesn’t know why. 

 

Patton had been pulled into the kitchen, and his back was facing away from the customers. He was pushed into an overwhelming group hug. Patton wanted to cry. But he didn’t. 

 

“Patton?” 

 

A familiar voice that thrummed the chords in Patton’s heart, setting his pulse beating. He turned towards it, pulling away from the tangle of arms. Logan Lancaster. Patton wanted to smile. He wanted to smile for Logan, because Logan deserved his smile. And so, he did. 

In a flurry, Patton’s smile spread across his face, breaking into serial joy. He wanted to make Logan smile, and he had known that he would get nowhere without fighting a smile onto his face. But this smile had felt different. All of Patton’s life he had worn them, and his face had grown used to the unnatural amounts of time that he did, but his face hurt. It felt like his face was being stretched taut over his skin. Patton wonders if Logan’s face felt like this, but he only let himself contemplate it for a second before seeing Logan’s face break into a grin alongside him. 

 

“You’re back.” Logan’s voice was rough and husky, Patton’s present balming the normal coldness that had been buried into the pits of his stomach years ago. His face, Patton thought, was brilliant just like him. 

 

Patton smiled back even wider, fuller, without any restraint. He loved seeing Logan with a smile on his face, so he needed to, too. It was hard, but he thinks, he would do anything for his friends, so he did. 

 

Logan coughed, into his sleeve trying to hide what was quite apparent on his face. 

 

Dylan pulls at Patton’s sleeve, dragging Patton’s gaze back to him. He pulled him over to sit at a table and told him to wait till their lunch break. The thought of Auguste arriving from work hadn’t crossed his mind in the past five minutes. He was just…

 

So happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hotline for domestic abuse -- 1-800-799-7233  
> Hotline for suicide prevention -- 1-800-273-8255
> 
> I hope yall liked it, again next chapter will be like 10x longer to make up for it  
> I plan on posting on like Friday Feb 8th, but I really want this next chapter to be polished so don't be mad if it's uploaded like a day later. 
> 
> btw if you wanna leave a kudos and/or a comment i certainly won't object ;)


	6. Patton is smiling, too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel horrible, I've been kind of hyping this up as a long chapter and it isn't. It really isn't. I wasn't super motivated to write so this chapter was pretty hard to make. I'm now back on track and ready to write, (I think.) I think this chapter was so slow to make because it was really daunting writing a really long chapter so I just decided to shorten it so yall didn't have to wait any longer.   
> Second, yall are so f*ckin sweet, jeez. Your comments make my heart soar, and your kudos means a lot to me. And thank you so much for 200 hits!!  
> Third, if you have noticed, I do have a set amount of chapters, so get excited. I'm planning on finishing this fic in the next, like, week and a half? Two weeks? Definitely before February ends because I do have another project coming up for sander sides I'll tell you about soon enough. 
> 
> be safe, i don't think this really even references much abuse, but i will put the numbers at the end notes!! 
> 
> I hope yall like this chapter, and of course  
> lmao, beware of swearies  
> love ya :)

 

Patton had been looking at his watch every five seconds. Or at least it felt like it. Time was strange, in the way every time he checked his watch, he thought it to be a minute but it was five. The time spent with his friends seemed to melt away like a popsicle in the sun. He knew that as time grew on, Auguste would get closer to coming of work, and his ears pounded every time he decided to stay another ten minutes. 

 

He’s ready to go. He doesn’t want Auguste to wait for him. He tells them that he has to use the bathroom, knowing that if he said he was going to Auguste’s they wouldn’t let him. Going to the staff room, he took a right instead of a left, turning into the exit. 

 

He loved that his friends cared for him, but he didn't want them to be burdened by something that wasn’t even a problem. 

 

.

.

.

 

Upon arrival, he almost fell from exhaustion. He had decided to try to run home, hoping that Auguste wasn’t home yet. It was a bad decision. He was out of breath, and his heart felt like it was ripping out of his chest, and his ears were clogged with the sounds of his breathing. He slung his bag on the floor, huffing, shaking, coughing. Pulling off his jacket, careful not to make any sudden movements. 

 

Patton huffs out a sigh dropping onto the couch. He didn’t have anything to do for the next few hours, or however long it took for Auguste to get back. Especially since Auguste had taken away his phone after the incident. No photos to scroll through, nobody’s feed to carelessly like. He would watch tv but he didn’t really feel like it. 

 

He decides to take explore a bit more of the apartment. It wasn’t very big but Patton still had to ask where the plates were put, so surely getting to know the place wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him. 

 

He ruffled through kitchen cabinets and drawers, quizzing himself on the placement of scissors and forks, bowls and pans. He had roamed to the bathroom, opening the mirror, dusting down the shower curtain. He felt like he was looking for something, but he didn’t know what for, and why. 

 

Upon reaching the bedroom, he knew he probably shouldn’t go ruffling through Auguste’s stuff, but he also knew nothing about him. Despite having moved in with him, he was still quite an enigma to Patton. Patton trusted him with his life, but Patton had a growing feeling that Auguste didn’t trust his with Patton. So, his hand on the handle, he pulled the door open.

 

It was hard to yank the drawer out, it was filled to the brim with poorly saturated pictures that almost spilled out. They were family photos and Auguste as a little boy. 

Young Auguste looked about the same. His ears disproportional for his face, his red hair like a roaring flame in the night, his nose pointy enough to use as a coat hanger.  His face splotchy reds in all the photos, his eyebrows bushy and untidy. He was cute. 

 

Upon further inspection, Patton had realized that in almost all of the photos, Auguste had worn a deepened frown, one that made his face sour, and made Patton’s face go white. PAtton had wanted to continue looking until a noise came from the living room. 

 

“Patton?” 

 

Auguste.

 

Patton desperately shoved all the pictures and letters back into the bedside table. Crinkling and folding them back up to make room for more in the desk. He breathed in after successfully quishing everything in and closing the drawer. He fixed his collar and went into the room to join Auguste.

 

When his eyes met Auguste he wanted to ask why his face was folded with smiles in all the photos he had seen, he had wanted to ask why Auguste had been so sad, but instead he just said, “How was work?”

 

.

.

.

 

The next day, Patton had convinced Auguste to let him go to the grocery store while Auguste was out at work. It took a bit, but after Auguste had seen the state of their fridge, he had heaved a sigh and let Patton go. Patton was practically beaming when Auguste left, ready to leave the house and not have to worry about Auguste doing something…

 

He had put on a shirt that had bumble bees on it, tan shorts, and a big joy inducing smile. On his way to the grocery store, he had glittered in all of the directions of people who looked at him. To those who saw him, maybe they saw the shining smile, or maybe they saw the battling desperation of being outside. 

 

He was skipping and he was happy. Auguste was letting the rules go loose, and Patton could breath. He wouldn’t be going, and the thought seemed to flit around in his head before quickly thinking that if Auguste would even find out about the first time, he would already be in big trouble. And, of course, his friends wouldn’t let him leave. This time, they’d be more careful. 

 

So, he just went to the grocery store. 

 

Perusing the aisles, shelves stocked with bowtie pastas of different colors. He felt like he was just on a normal trip to the grocery store, the bustling people around him furthering that feeling. No one was paying any attention to him. A sort of relief, honestly. Recently, everyone seemed to have been looking at him like an artifact on display. But this? This was nice, it was too chaotic for Patton to think of Auguste and his friends…

 

He would’ve stayed in the store for hours if he hadn’t seen his face. Logan Lancaster back in his life once more. A face that Patton keeps on thinking he’s seen the last of, won’t stop showing up. It almost feels like the universe’s plan. It almost feels like they’re pushing them together. 

 

Patton wanted to laugh at the thought. Logan Lancaster? Please, Logan Lancaster was all business. Except for when he smiled, when he smiled Patton thought that Logan might’ve been perfect for him in another world. 

 

Logan did not see him at first, and Patton had thought of just rushing out of the store, right there and then. He thought if he left now, he wouldn’t be seen. So he left.

 

But that’s when Logan turned to see a short man rushing off towards the registers in a short painted with bees and khaki shorts, and smirked. 

 

.

.

.

**Logan**

 

Logan had come to the grocery store in search of band-aids and vodka. He was not having a good day, and he thought that maybe the alcohol could flesh out all the remotely good decisions that made him kind of like himself and instead replace them with the horrible decision to get liver problems. 

 

He didn’t want to look like a savage so he thought maybe he could pick up something like a pomegranate to make him look a little better. He knew it wouldn’t. Everyone could probably see pass his cool look to find the version of him melting down at Patton at that long-nosed, big-eared, abusive freak’s apartment. He wanted to vomit, but he let himself save it for the alcohol overdose. 

 

He was grabbing pomegranates and apples, testing for the ripeness, when he turned to go to the vodka aisle. In his peripheral vision, he sees a tall child. A tall child that is hurtling for the closest cash register, hefting the heavy basket onto his knees. He’s running from something. He’s wearing a shirt that has bees on it and tan khaki shorts and Logan thinks for a minute he looks familiar. Logan brushes it off before the tall child flings a hopeless look at Logan, and his mind scribbles rainbow, throwing his whole trip off course. 

 

Patton Parker. 

 

His instincts kick into high gear and suddenly he is walking furiously towards Patton, a slight awed smile plastered onto his face, rushing to get to Patton before he leaves. His legs are long and it takes half as long as it took to get to the cashier as it did Patton. 

 

Patton his stuffing breadsticks into his bags, when Logan puts his hands on Patton’s shoulders. Patton stills, looking like he was caught in the act. (He was.) Logan walked to Patton’s front, is smile evaporating once he saw Patton’s pallor and shaking figure. 

 

“Is there something the matter?” He asks, voice cold with concern. Concern that drove into his bones, that made him want to shake with anger. He held back the urge to start yelling, to ask for Auguste’s address so he could sock him in the face. He held it back for Patton’s sake. 

 

Patton shook his head gently, mouth quivering as he slid a false smile onto his face, “No. Nothing. Is there something wrong with you? You were the one who ran to me.” Patton says, Logan could tell he didn’t want to sound mean but Logan flinches anyways at the accusation. The completely true accusation. 

 

Logan clears his throat, pushing up his glasses, “Would you...um, would you like to -” he clears his throat again, Patton is all wide eyes.

 

“What I’m trying to ask is: are you hungry?” Logan finishes, looking everywhere but Patton, scratching his neck, blush creeping up onto his cheeks. 

 

Patton’s mouth is open, but just a little. Apparently the blush is contagious because it quickly spreads onto Patton’s face. He seems like he’s at a loss of words. “I like sushi.” He blurts, touching his lips, as if he didn’t plan on saying that. 

 

The cashier is looking back and forth between Patton and Logan, her face bubbly with pride. The bagger is holding in a nervous chuckle, the line long behind Patton and Logan. No one seems to care. “Oh my god, they’re the same people from the coffee house down the street, they are so fucking adorable.” Logan doesn’t hear a word though, not after Patton’s words.

 

A brilliant smile that’s almost as bright as him, develops onto his face. And suddenly he is tugging on Patton’s wrist out of the store, and suddenly, Patton is smiling, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hotline for domestic abuse -- 1-800-799-7233  
> hotline for suicide prevention -- 1-800-273-8255
> 
> SO, because I don't want to disappoint you again, I'm not going to say a *specific* date but I can say it will be a MUCH shorter wait next time, and I can promise you that. I'm ready to write more, and can't wait for this story to unravel.   
> (I'm hoping the next chapter is going to be up by tomorrow tho so)  
> I'm not going to be doing anymore extremely long chapters or anything, I'm just going to be writing the story. 
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all the support, it means the world to me.
> 
> btw if you wanna leave a kudos and/or comment, I won't object ;)


	7. Magnificent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so. This was NOT uploaded the day after I posted the last one, and I apologize. I really need to stop saying when I'll post the next chapter.  
> So yeah. this is the next chapter. We have four more chapters left.  
> This chapter isn't particularly short, but it isn't long. I wanted to update, so here it is.  
> Your comments are SUPER nice, and encourage me to write.  
> I just wanted to let yall know, too, that I won't give up on this story. I know that recently I've been posting more of like once per week rather then the when i first started, once per day, but I'm just going at a slower pace because i've been working on other projects and stuff. 
> 
> be safe, you guys, this does lightly reference abuse, i think? but other than that it's nothing explicit. AUGUSTE IS NOT IN THIS CHAPTER, you are welcome.  
> Numbers will be at the end of the chapter, like always. 
> 
> Again, your support means the world and you guys are amazing.  
> Hope yall like this chapter, and of course  
> lmao beware of swearies  
> love ya :)

 

Logan was running, he was running with Patton. They were racing against the wind, his jacket flapping in the wind, his suit disheveled. His mouth was unfurled wide onto his face, his eyes glinting with glee. His breath was coming out hard and breaths of heat puffed out in clouds in front of him. His heart was going a million miles an hour, and he thought that maybe it wasn’t just because he was running. He thought he could go on forever, holding Patton’s hand.

 

He turned right, his grip tight on Patton’s hand as they took a sharp turn and the restaurant came into view. Red and black and giant glass windows that let you look inwards. Pointy roofs and smiling customers.

 

Patton’s breath caught in Logan’s ear as they slowed down. Logan turned to find Patton’s face in pleasant surprise.

 

“This is where me and Dylan and I used to go all the time.” Patton says, voice breathy.

 

Logan smiles, pulling Patton towards the restaurant, when Patton tugs his hand away from Logan’s. Logan is hurt for a split second, and stills. Patton is unavailable, no matter how terrible their relationship is, Logan has to respect it.

 

Logan picks up his fallen grin and cooly, adjusts his tie, fixing his tie. “After you.” He says, gesturing towards the door, waiting for Patton to go in first. PAtton manages a small, tight, (awkward,) smile. Logan opens the door and Patton slips in.

 

A smell hits Logan’s nostrils immediately, overwhelming his senses. Soy Sauce and wasabi, and, of course, fish.

 

Patton goes to the hostess, ordering a table for two. The hostess bows and quickly gestures towards a near table. It is spotless and even though it is near the entrance, Logan is quite pleased with the placement. He slides into the chair, leaving Patton the booth.

 

Strangely, Logan’s hands are clammy. His ears are beat red, and he feels like coughing. He doesn’t really know what to do. “So…” He comments, shifting his legs, crossing them, uncrossing them. Starting to take off his jacket, only to put it on once more. Patton is holding in a chuckle.

 

Patton’s face darkens, “How are they? Virgil’s doing okay?” His words rotten with concern. Logan drops his face to the table, now happily content to stare at the table.

 

Clearing his throat, Logan answers, “Yes, Virgil is doing fine. Roman has been comforting him through the uhhh…” Logan looks up to Patton, cautiously giving him a shy, warm, smile. “Change.” He finishes, shifting his gaze somewhere else once his face gets even warmer.

 

In his peripheral vision, Logan sees Patton’s face fall. And that’s when Logn notices Patton’s bags that drag down his face, pulling his face down. He notices the small purple bruises that cloud Patton’s neck. He notices Patton’s split lip, beads of blood sprouting. He notices Patton’s ruffled hair. He notices the slow pain in his eyes.

 

“Patton…?” Logan says, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch Patton’s face before shying away from skin. Scared to touch. On closer inspection, he realizes it was just the light. His neck wasn’t purple...it was just the shadow of Patton’s face...right? It wasn’t a split lip, Patton had just probably chewed on it, or bit into it too hard. He had to ask. He had to make sure.

 

“Yes?” Patton says, mouth now pulled upwards, hesitantly.

 

“Does he hurt you, Patton?” Logan asks, trying his best not to let the fury overtake him, for it to bubble over, out of his control. His fingers were now playing against the table, the subtle sounds of his low fingernails clacking against the wood.

 

Patton’s face falters, only for a second before he brightens. “Auguste loves me, why would he hurt me?” He reassures, but it sounds more like a genuine question to Logan. It scares him.

 

“Patton, you need to tell me if he hurts you. Everyone cares about you so much.” Logan says, voice breaking, cracking. The pushed down anger spiraling into a deep staggering misery.

 

Patton’s face doesn’t wear this time, “He doesn’t.”

 

His eyes tell a different story.

 

.

.

.

 

“Hey, umm…” Logan was looking down at his plates that were metaphorically licked clean, (It was too unsanitary for Logan.) Cracking his hands, and wringing them as he clears his throat. He looked up at Patton trying to conjure up a smile. "I need your number."

 

Patton’s mouth was open with half-chewed food, it wasn’t a pleasant sight to behold but Logan found it almost endearing. Shock apparent in his eyes. In a muffle of soy sauce covered rice he asks, “Why? I mean - why do you want it?” Patton’s ears are crimson, his face dusting with a light pink flush of surprise.

 

Logan pushes up his glasses, a cool grin sliding over his face. “I meant so you could meet up with your friend, unless you have something else in mind…?” He says, raising his brow, his mouth quirking to the side in amusement.

 

Patton’s flush deepens, “Yeah, no. That’s um, what i thought - meant. That’s what I meant…” Tapping his fingers relentlessly on the table, Patton looks up to find Logan quietly chuckling. He’s blushing, too. The slight redness of his face more obvious on his paler skin, but he’s concealing it better with bright eyes. A glowing smile a look of lingering mischief that tugged on the hairs of Patton’s neck, sending a shiver down Patton’s spine.

 

“Okay, great. I may need to know the order of the digits, though.” He says, teasingly.

 

Patton’s face just falls, his bags seem to weigh down his skin. “Auguste took away my phone.” He mumbles, gulping. It seemed like he had gulped down swallows of courage to say it.

 

Logan tried not to overreact. He did. He was. He wouldn’t. He inhaled sharply, he wanted to shake. He wanted to punch Auguste, he wanted… no he didn’t. He just wished Patton would stop getting hurt, but he knew he had to wait.

 

Logan knew that it wasn’t a matter of asking Patton to stay with him, to stay with their friends. It was a matter of reminding Patton of everything that he wanted and loved.

 

“Meet me at the coffeehouse on Friday.” Hesitation was quick to envelop Patton’s face, but Logan finishes, “Please. They want to see you.”

 

Patton bit his lip, searching Logan’s eyes. “Okay. Yes.”

 

“Yes?” Logan reassures, a brilliant smile unfurling onto his face.

 

Patton was smiling back, unable to hide the sheer giddiness that he felt in his heart at Logan’s smile. “Yes.”

 

“Magnificent.” Logan’s eyes were sparkling.

 

.

.

.

 

Logan found it statistically improbable that Patton’s friends had moved out in the month that he hadn’t visited, but he still felt a little nervous to knock on the door.

 

He wasn’t exactly scared, it wasn’t very logical to be so. He was just nervous and excited. Anticipation stirred in his stomach. Nervous because talking to anyone about things like abuse doesn’t put a good feeling in your stomach. Excited because he almost sure that Patton’s friends would be psyched to hear that Patton was coming over, and soon, too.

 

He brought his knuckles to the door and knocked.

 

He didn’t have to wait long to be greeted at the door by Remy, lazy smile spreading across his face, “What’s up, babe? Are you here to hang out, or? No, let me guess. You talked to Patton.” He finishes, a little bit pleased with himself.

 

Logan furrows his brows in confusion. He wasn’t sure how Remy was able to untangle the intricacies of Logan’s emotions, let alone in his actions in just look, or knock…? Either way, Logan was perplexed at the notion of someone like Remy. He seemed so careless but he had a strange way of knowing what everyone was doing at all times. Logan shrugs to himself, walking inside.

 

“Yes, actually. I have arranged for him to come to the coffeehouse on Friday. I know that you normally do game night at, well, night, but I thought you could make this exception for Patton.” Logan explains, swiftly and efficiently taking off his coat and scarf only to realize that they had no coat rack. He stood by the door awkwardly for a minute before deciding to lay them onto a chair at the dining table, continuing to stand.

 

Dylan smiles when he sees Logan, Logan had only seen him a couple times outside of the cafe curious as to why he was doing what he was doing. And then, Dylan was hugging Logan and Logan, not wanting to be rude, hugs back.  “Welcome back, Logan.”

 

Logan’s ears warms, his heart warming with. He would never admit it, though.

 

“So, what’s the deal with Patton? Is he okay? He didn’t have anything physically damaged right? He wasn’t hurt?” Dylan asks, his words rushed and out of focused.

 

Logan garnered a soft, comforting smile, or something close to it. “He’s fine… I guess… the point is you guys have to get off work early. Is that alright?” He says, worry sinking into his voice. If they can’t get off then Patton would be so disappointed. Or since he doesn’t know that it’s going to be game night - just bored. Logan wasn’t super great at playing board games, especially ones that aren’t _Clue_ or _Battleship._

 

Dylan nods fervently, “Yes, of course. Anything for Patton.”

 

Logan was turning towards the door, again. The short visit coming to an end. Until he remembered, “Tomorrow, don’t talk about Auguste. We’re trying a different strategy, okay?”

 

Dylan just gave him a funny look but Remy was eating a store bought sugar cookie, crumbs falling from his mouth. “Whatever you say, babe.”

 

Logan smiles lightly, stepping out of the door. He sighs.

  
_I really hope this works._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hotline for domestic abuse -- 1-800-799-7233  
> hotline for suicide prevention -- 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Yeah, no, I'm not going to give you any specific date on the next chapter's upload, but yknow i'll upload agin soon enough!! I'm getting ReAllY excited for the climax of this story so  
> yeah
> 
> Last chapter I mentioned that I had another project coming up. I did not lie, it is actually going to be taking place in the same universe, and you should stay tuned for that because it is *drumroll*  
> prinxiety!!
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all the support, it means the world to me.
> 
> btw if you wanna leave a kudos and/or comment, I won't object ;)


	8. he misses This, he wants This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye YEE  
> We have three more chapters left, which is CRAZYYYYYY  
> from here on out, I'll be posting once a week. I'm working on a lot of projects right now, sorry. (I'll get to them in a sec) So I will be posting every Saturday (Not counting this Saturday)  
> Also, YALL ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH  
> Your comments are so nice, what Auguste deserves is coming, don't worry. The end is near...  
> ALSO 20000 WORDS OMG
> 
> Okay, so other projects. "What about them?" You may be asking yourself. Well...  
> TOMORROW, Feb 22nd, is the debut of a fanfic called "Dancing on the Edge of a Cliff" which will be made by me and my sister, I will be doing the writing off of her outline and she will also be doing the pictures accompanying the chapters :)  
> It is Prinxiety/Logicality.
> 
> Project #2 will be coming on March 23rd. It is Prinxiety and its title is "A Stitch Threaded by Fate." This will be made completely by me, and will be taking place in this universe. It's basically the story of how Princey and Virgil came to be. 
> 
> Hotlines will be at the end like always.  
> Jeez, that was long. Anyways, enjoy! Thank you so much for your support, and of course:  
> lmao, beware of swearies.

 

The day before Friday, Patton had got an incoming text from a new number. Patton had thought it strange, he hadn’t remembered telling anyone his number until a familiar name had popped into his head. Logan Lancaster. He had giggled and responded to the greeting only to be told to not meet him at the cafe tomorrow. At first, Patton had been devastated, only to be enlightened with the joy of a thousand suns when he was told to just go to his old apartment instead. He would be going to Game Night, or rather Game Day. 

 

The buildings tower over Patton, and it makes him think. It makes him question why he ever decided to move to a big city. He never did like the commotion and loud noise in them. There wasn’t any particular reason as to why he moved here, he just did. After he finished college he just hadn’t known what to do, so he decided that in some place where nothing stopped, maybe it would whisk him away with the uproar. Maybe he wouldn’t have to consider his future. 

 

Alas, that was not how it turned out. He was still stuck, having not figured out how to continue on. He knew wanted to be an author, that was how it had always been, but he never considered how to start. He never knew how. So he did not have a plan, and for now, that sufficed. He’ll enjoy these risky joys that he got with his friends, and the nights he spent bundled into Auguste’s arms. He’s still young, he has the rest of his life to figure out what to do. 

 

He breaths in, rubbing his muddy shoes on the doormat before stepping into the familiar building that belonged to his friends. Once, it belonged to him. He almost missed those days. Those days of early mornings and hugs and steven universe. He missed the sounds of Dylan whistling and Remy telling him to shut up with a smile on his face. He missed those particular mornings where Virgil would come over so they could all go to work together. 

 

The door to his apartment - his previous apartment, at least - stares back at him. It felt like it was judging him. Like it was deciding whether or not he was worthy of crossing the threshold. He didn’t feel worthy. Or maybe the door was contemplating who he ought to be. Leaving only to come back. Pathetic. It was probably just that he didn’t have a key to open the door, it felt unusual to have to wait. Except, he hadn’t knocked.

 

So he knocked, softly and with only a couple knocks. His knuckles were the color of bark and plums, covered in bruises from days of rough falls. He couldn’t manage to knock out a jaunty tune of “Fixer Upper” from  _ Frozen _ , or even call out if they wanted to build a snowman. Auguste had told him to never yell out, it made him look gross. After all, he wasn’t a child. So he wouldn’t. 

There wasn’t much of a delay for him to wait, Remy opening the door, giving Patton a small, warm smile. It didn’t take long for Remy to sit on the living room floor, folding his legs into his customary game night seat. 

 

Dylan was in the kitchen, probably stirring a pot of some strange exotic Italian sauce only to look to see Patton and drop the wooden spoon on the floor. Pasta sauce splattered on the ground like a crime scene. He envelops Patton in a full embrace, a smile rising to the moment. 

 

When Dylan lets go, Patton can see his outfit clearer. He is wearing black jeans decorated with eyes that cry tears, a black and white striped shirt overlayed with a black t-shirt with an intricately designed rose on it. Patton could never not be impressed by his fashion sense, although today, he looked particularly more e-boy. 

 

“Do you wanna change?” Dylan asks, looking down at Patton’s almost ratty clothes. When he had moved he hadn’t the time to pack up all of his stuff and Auguste had insisted he didn't need any of his old clothes. Auguste would buy him new ones. But he didn’t. Not yet. So, Patton had been wearing the same three outfits over and over again since. Even with washing, Patton still thought it a little gross. 

 

He nodded his head wholeheartedly. Dylan’s grin only grew. 

 

.

.

.

 

When Patton returns, Remy is still sitting on the floor of the living room, lax and comfortable. He looks up when he notices Patton’s stare,  smiling lightly and returning his gaze back to his phone like nothing was out of the ordinary. Patton beamed back. He was glad that they weren’t bringing up Auguste, that they were realizing that he was apart of his life, and that was that. 

 

That was the first time Patton felt happy since he spent that day with Logan. 

 

A couple minutes later Virgil had arrived with Roman in tow. His eyes had lit brightly at the sight of Patton, but he just gave a jock nod sits on the couch, tugging on Roman’s arms to wrap around him. 

 

They all huddled in around the coffee table of board games, commenting and pointing at fun games that they could play when Logan arrived. Patton could acknowledge the absence of  _ Shoots and Ladders.  _ Baby steps. 

 

It only took a couple minutes for Logan to swing the door open, balancing three pizzas. They smell delicious, and it makes Patton’s mouth water. Logan mutters something about safety procedures, and how they should check that the door is locked every time they close it, but it goes unnoticed when Virgil is scrambling to take the pizzas from him. His eyes are hungry. Dylan is all muffling gasps, saying he could’ve made something but everyone knows he wasn’t planning to. Upon seeing Patton, a wild smile engulfs Logan’s face and Patton can only blush in response. Looks around the group exchange just from this little action that Patton found insignificant. 

 

After everyone grabs atleast one piece of pizza, and settle back into their seats they get to work. Going through board games like a fire goes through wood. There are laughs, chortles, and guffaws. There are grins, smiles, and all else. Sore losers and their lingering death glares (Particularly Virgil’s,) are common, but so are the triumphant looks of winners. 

 

And Patton is happy, he is happy, happy,  _ happy _ . 

 

He almost forgot how it felt to be around people that loved him. That’s not right. Auguste loves him, it’s just… No, all foolish thoughts. Auguste loves Patton, Patton only forgot what it felt to be around his friends. Yeah. 

 

He missed this. He missed the manic rollercoaster that game night usually put him through. He missed his friends laughs. Their smiles. Their grimaces. Their jokes. He missed  _ this.  _ He thinks that he’d give the world to have this. He wished that he could do this without someone’s permission, he wished that he could do this outside a secret. 

 

He wants this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hotline for domestic abuse -- 1-800-799-7233  
> hotline for suicide prevention -- 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Next chapter will be on Saturday next week!  
> Please check out "Dancing on the Edge of a Cliff" by me and my sister, we've been working really hard on it.  
> And look out for "A Stitch Threaded by Fate"
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all the support, it means the world to me.
> 
> btw if you wanna leave a kudos and/or comment, I won't object ;)


	9. So he decided to see them more often

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so I lied.  
> I decided to marathon the last three chapters and... this is chapter nine.  
> I couldn't wait to write this chapter, and I couldn't wait to show it to you.  
> So, here it is.  
> Thank you so much for 400 hits, that is INSANE.  
> Two more chapters.
> 
> Hotlines will be at the end like always.  
> Anyways, enjoy! Thank you so much for your support, and of course:  
> lmao, beware of swearies.

 

Once they wrapped up game day, ending at around three o’clock, Dylan and Patton had set up a time to see each other. Just them two. Patton had missed the midnight conversations at the dining table, conversing back and forth of all the customers they had dealt with. Of their odd experiences of being closeted in high school. Of their "Virgil phases." Although Dylan had approached Patton first, Patton had been considering asking him if they could talk. 

 

They had scheduled to see each other tomorrow. They would make pies and laugh at the the mutated crusts that Patton would create and the delightful fillings Dylan would. Patton was exhilarated just at the thought of it. 

 

He had arrived about an hour ago, Dylan taking the day off work just for him. 

 

“Wait, you think Virgil and Roman made out when they got the board games?” Patton asks, smiling like a maniac. It was an attempt to cut through Dylan’s muffled chuckles, and it didn’t work very well. Dylan just laughs louder at Patton’s innocence. 

 

Patton had a confused look on his face. Whether it was from his inexperience in the kitchen or the thought that his son could do such a thing. Dylan was biting his lip to keep his smile from spilling out, lacquering on the egg wash. 

 

“I can’t -” He had a shortness of breath, cackling, “I can’t believe you hadn’t guessed. I mean, their swollen lips, like hello? I’m not one to look into details but I thought it was  _ sooooo _ obvious.” 

 

Patton giggled. 

 

He really had missed this. 

 

So he decided to see them more often. 

 

.

.

.

 

He saw Remy next. 

 

Remy had needed to visit the grocery store, he was out of the plastic sugar cookies that he was always gnawing on. If Patton was being honest, sometimes he thought that Remy ate one too many of those diabetes in a cookie things but, if Patton was being  _ really _ honest, he thought them mouthwatering. 

 

So they were grocery shopping. 

 

Dylan had asked Remy to get a couple ingredients for dinner. Patton couldn’t come to it because of Auguste, which yes, he was a bit bummed, but at the opportunity of  Patton seeing Remy, Paton had leapt at the chance. 

 

To Patton, Remy was a bit of enigma. Sometimes he didn’t have a care in the world, btu then there were those fleeting moments where he would catch him pulling stares at Dylan that were full of love. Or the reluctance to accept Roman when he first met him with Virgil, (well, before his laugh.) Those moments helped Patton know that inside, Remy was just as big as a softie that Patton was. He just expressed it in the tiny things. 

 

“What else does he need?” Patton says, plucking the oregano from the shelf, dropping it into the overflowing cart. A mesh of junk foods that were belonging to Remy, and the delectable, sophisticated ones of Dylan. Another puzzle was how Remy and Dylan had come to be, their tastes in foods polar opposites. 

 

“You have the list, babe.” Remy responds, pushing the cart towards clearance Cheez-its, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Pulling the list up on his phone, he realizes that that’s everything on the list. He goes to tell Remy as much but he is already ordering a sheet cake at the bakery part of the store. 

 

Patton smiled.

 

He really had missed this. 

 

.

.

.

 

Patton had finally decided to ask Virgil and Roman how they met each other. It was funny, honestly. Apparently the anonymous person Virgil had been texting for the past five years had been the same annoying boy at the movie theatre who never seemed to be able to get a second date. 

 

Although Virgil was blushing through the whole recount of the story, Patton could tell he loved hearing about himself in Roman’s point of view. It was charming, and it made Patton’s heart swell. And you can bet that Roman’s laugh contributed to it. 

 

After hearing all about it, Patton had decided that they had to see a movie at the same theatre. He knew that he would be acting as a third wheel, but it hadn’t mattered to him. In fact, he had been excited to see them acting as couple outside the apartment. If they did PDA, and whatnot. 

 

After gathering snacks at the concessions stands, and sitting through the whole movie, (A movie called “Sander Sides,” a new trending film by Thomas Sanders. A tale of his personalities,) he had gathered this much:. One, they didn’t really do PDA, despite Roman constantly wanting to. Two, when they were alone - or at least in the dark - Virgil was an absolute cuddle monster. He held onto Roman like a sloth would on a tree. Three, that their relationship was all teasing, not taking each other seriously, and just…  _ living.  _

 

Patton, being a romantic, found it all so endearing. He was happy that Virgil had someone. That someone had found him. 

 

Patton was overjoyed.

 

He really had missed this. 

 

.

.

.

 

**Logan**

 

Logan texts him.

 

It’s an address. 

 

_ Meet me there. Tomorrow. Please.  _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

 

 

Logan was waiting. His patience deteriorating. He had waited weeks to have this conversation, trying to shove these growing feelings into drawers. He hadn’t wanted to do anything rash, but he would do anything to get him away from his boyfriend, and if took this. He would do it.

 

He had chosen to meet him at a bus stop. It wasn’t a particular bus stop, just a normal one. It hadn’t had any meaning to Logan, besides it being close to Logan’s firm. Well, close was an under exaggeration. It was right next to it. 

 

He was getting soaked. It was raining. 

 

Logan is standing under the roof of the bus stop, the wind strong. He’s frowning, grimacing, anticipating his arrival home. His scarf is moving wildly, his hair a mess. Rain on a stormy autumn night. He holds his arms, breathing into his palms, trying to draw heat to his hands.

 

The rain is pounding on the roof, like hot tears rolling down.

 

Logan hadn’t minded rain, he thought fall was quite poetic. Life was funny like that. He thinks life is a box of chocolates, and he’s gotten something fruity. Something that he hadn’t asked for, but certainly didn’t mind. He’s fallen head over heels for the strangeness of it all.

 

Logan is waiting for him to come. He is waiting to get on with his life.

 

And then

 

A man is walking to the bus stop.

 

Towards Logan.

 

And that’s when Auguste walks back into his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hotline for domestic abuse -- 1-800-799-7233  
> hotline for suicide prevention -- 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Next chapter will be up tomorrow.  
> If you're looking for extra content by yours truly, go check out  
> "Dancing on the Edge of the Cliff" by me and my sister, and look out for "A stitch threaded by Fate", taking place in this universe, Virgil and Roman's love story. (a prequel of sorts.)
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all the support, it means the world to me.
> 
> btw if you wanna leave a kudos and/or comment, I won't object ;)


	10. If Love was a Lottery Ticket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackpot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter pertaining to the main story.  
> The last chapter is actually just something extra backstory that you can decide whether to read or not, it tells you the story from Auguste's POV. I think it'd be cool if you read it, and I felt I needed to write it but it isn't necessary to read if you don't care to.  
> So, yeah. Essentially, this is the last chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and if you want to leave a comment or a kudos I would be very thankful.  
> And, because of tradition  
> lmao beware of swearies
> 
> ... My sister convinced me to do this...

He had only lived in the neighborhood for a couple of months before his dad’s work moved him somewhere else. But from what Logan had remembered of Auguste, did not seem to fit the image. Logan had known him once, when he was eight.

 

When Logan had known him, Auguste had been the sweetest boy on the street. He had been shy to say anything but please and thank you. Outside of this, the only thing Logan could recall was Auguste’s father’s shouts, his yells and screams. Everything else is blurry, he hadn’t been very good friends with Auguste, or really friends at all. Only recently had Logan started making friends, anyways. 

 

So when he first saw Auguste, memory did not cloud his mind. His opinion on him back then did not affect how he felt now. When he had the idea to talk to Auguste, he was not going to pat him on the back, congratulating him and Patton’s relationship. No. No, he would not. 

 

“Auguste.” Logan says as Auguste saddles up in front of him. Logan is looking less than amused and Auguste’s face matches his expression. Neither of them want to be here. 

 

“Logan.” Auguste replies, eyes glazed over. He had worn a simple leather jacket and a greasy tee, he looked unkempt.    
  


Logan was wearing a suit. His shirt clean pressed, no wrinkle in sight. Maybe this was because the rain smoothed it over, but it was obvious that it wasn’t. Logan wasn’t the type to wear a greasy shirt. He wasn’t the type to wear a leather jacket that bulged out at the shoulders. He wasn’t one not to try. He was not the type to hit. 

 

He kept reminding himself that. He didn’t want to be the type to attack, he wanted to defend. But that inner strength that he prided himself on, didn’t seem to be as much as he thought when he remembered everything Auguste has done to Patton. But Logan had not invited Auguste just so he could punch him, he refused to be like Auguste. He wasn’t him. Would never be.

 

Maybe in another world, they could’ve been the same. Maybe if Logan had never started going to therapy. Maybe if Auguste had. But in this one, Auguste was the enemy. 

 

And Logan was determined to be the hero.

 

“I want you stop. I know what you’ve been doing to Patton, and it’s wrong.” Logan didn’t know what he was saying. When it came out of his mouth, it all sounded so stupid. Asking a bully to stop just provokes them. But something in Logan thought that Auguste wasn’t a bully. He was confused. He had grown up with corrupt parents. Logan knew it wasn’t all his fault. It didn’t make it right, though. 

 

Auguste scoffs, a storm growing in his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

 

Logan had been avoiding Patton. He had finally noticed the growing bruises that mottled Patton’s warm ivory skin. He had noticed the way Patton flinched at someone’s touch, and how he tried to conceal it. He had noticed the coats of foundation that varnished Patton’s face. He had realized at Game Night, and he had felt so… so… dense. Inconsiderate. He knew that Auguste hadn’t been treating Patton right, and he thought he had been taking the proper steps to get him out of that situation but… this was something different. It felt so much worse. 

 

Logan heard of all the adventures that Patton had been on with his friends. He heard them tell him that Patton was beaming the whole time, and how he looked so happy to be there. But Logan had known the truth. 

 

Logan started to realize that Patton was a liar. A master of deception. Patton was someone who covered up his tears with excuses of different contacts or sleepiness. He was the type who thought he had to put up a mask of smiles to appease the ones around him. Logan knew now, that Patton was the type that didn’t think he deserved other people’s time. What Logan didn’t know is if this was because of Auguste, or if Patton had lived like this his whole life. 

 

“I know you’ve been hurting him, and you need to stop. I’ll call the cops.” Logan says, his voice unwavering. 

 

Clouds swarm in Auguste’s eyes, the rain that bathed their clothes matching the chilling look in his yes. He was biting his lip in frustration, and Logan was sure it was going to bleed. “Wait. Stay here.” He jogs away from Logan, turning the corner. 

 

Logan was not going to let him run away, run away from his problems. Continue this streak of wrong. He trailed him. 

 

Auguste was around the corner. He was opening the door of his truck. It was red, but looked brown in the shadows of cumulus that drew above them. A boy gets out, fear in his eyes. He looks resigned. Like he knows what’s coming. 

 

Logan’s knees almost buckle, falling out from under him, but he keeps up. His breath catching. 

 

It’s Patton. 

 

Logan wants to say he looks beautiful. He wants to say that Patton looks like a shining light in a sea of the depression that has plagued Logan’s thoughts since the last time he saw him. He wants to say it. He wants to say it all. But he can’t bring the words to his lips. 

 

Because in the rain, it’s all so apparent. 

 

A purple eye that has bags that drag to the floor, it hollows out his face. It makes him look like a skeleton, starved. Is it from exhaustion, is it from blows that landed too close, is it from the crying? His knees are browned with the redundant falls of endurance. Is it from the begging, is it from the praying? His shoulder has a scar that snakes down his arm. Is it all from Auguste?

 

Logan thinks he might throw up, and his stomach threatens to lurch up today’s lunch. He didn’t know even half of Patton’s struggle, and this makes that clear. He thinks that if Auguste lays one more finger on Patton, he might have to kill him. He thinks that if Auguste lays one more finger on Patton, he will beg for himself to take the hit instead of Patton. He thinks he’d do anything to see the genuine smile that he saw the first day he met him. Anything. 

 

And that’s when Auguste’s arm is pulling back. Logan’s reflexes kick in and his mind goes reeling. He shouts, and he bolts. He runs to Patton’s side. Auguste’s fist is only stops for seconds before his lips tilt upwards and it goes flying into Logan’s face.

 

Patton cries out, he is crying. Logan wishes he’d stop crying. 

 

Logan falls onto his knees, huffing, panting. Regaining his composure. He’s about to shield Patton, tell him everything is going to be okay. He’s safe now. But before Logan can reach out, another blow whips the air around Logan like a whip. It’s not going for Logan. 

 

When Logan was younger, his father expected much of him. He must take up Chinese. Now piano. Now writing. Now fencing. He had never minded it much. It was something to fill up the time. Only in this moment was Logan pleased that he done all of it, because it had led him to boxing. How to throw a punch. How to block one.

 

Logan didn’t think Auguste deserved to land a second one. 

 

So he caught it. He twisted his knuckles, ever so slightly. Auguste winces in pain, and Logan realizes his lip is split and is bleeding.

 

He goes to wipe it off, sliding his thumb across him mouth, a wicked smile wringing his lips. It could cut skin. It only grows when he sees Auguste shrink back. “You’ve seemed to have misplaced your brain.” 

 

And suddenly, Auguste is on the floor, writhing in pain. Patton is clinging to Logan. And Logan thinks that he can finally breathe now. 

 

.

.

.

 

**Patton**

 

Patton was in shock. In a wave of confusion, him, Logan, and Auguste had been hauled down to the police station. In a wave of confusion, Auguste had accused Logan of punching him. In a wave of confusion, Logan said that Auguste had done it so many more to Patton. Logan said that Auguste had been abusive.

 

Patton knew he had been denying it. He knew that he hadn’t wanted to think it. But he also knew it was true.

 

Whisked away by his disorientment, he could vividly remember the feel of Dylan’s arms wrapping around him. Remy’s arms. Virgil’s arms. Roman’s arms. He felt the wetness on his clothes, the rain and the tears and the snot. 

 

It felt like a dream. He felt like someone had been suffocating him, and now, finally, the hands had stopped.

 

He thinks that if this was happy, he wanted to feel like this for the rest of his life. 

 

.

.

.

 

**One month Later**

 

**Logan**

 

Remy had decided that they should go to the park. It came as a surprise to them all, Remy wasn’t the type to go out. He normally stayed at home, basking in his excessively expensive clothes. Dylan looked the most surprised. 

 

The trees spanned for miles, or that’s what it seemed. There were random patches of flowers and bushes that hid benches. Logan didn’t make a habit of calling things beautiful, but if something was, this was it. 

 

Everyone had split up into their individual pairs. Roman with Virgil. Remy with Dylan. It left Patton and Logan alone, or rather, together. 

 

Patton was smiling, his eyes were closed, breathing in the scent of pine and azaleas. Logan couldn’t think anything but that he was the most exquisite looking thing he’d ever seen. He was stunning. He was the first snow in winter, the sheets of ice caking the ground in the stirling white that could only mean cocoa by an open fire. He was the strawberry popsicles that dripped onto you and your friend’s hands, the pool that cooled your skin in the summer’s sun. He was the dried leaves of fall, the newly bloomed flowers of spring. If Patton was someone positive then Logan was negative, because he couldn’t seem to be able to stop himself from being attracted to him. If Patton was a cliff, then Logan was the waterfall, because he’d fall for him. Over and over. 

 

Patton made Logan’s heart beat like it would go into cardiac arrest, Patton made Logan fret over his arteries. Patton drove Logan’s heart a million miles an hour, and Logan was an adrenaline junky because he was addicted to it. 

 

Logan had held back from saying anything about their relationship for the past month. He had been more concerned over Patton being okay, then over which type of roses he should get him. But now, the sun out, the life that surrounded him, Logan thought about it. It was the only thing he was thinking. And right now, it was making him go insane. 

 

“Logan.” Patton says, looking up and stopping Logan’s thoughts, eyes shining. Logan gulps.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why haven’t you asked me out yet?” Patton asks, a small mischievous smile creeping onto his face. 

 

Logan flushes, rubbing his neck. “I guess… your friendship meant more than… I think that I was…”  _ Scared. You deserve more than me. You deserve the world but I can only give you the moon. The moon with its craters. The moon with its blemishes and marks. You deserve the stars, but I can only give you one. The sun and its disparity to the billions of suns that others can give.  _

 

Patton appears thoughtful, like he had heard what Logan had been thinking. He looks like he had just heard the most interesting thing. Or the most ridiculous. 

 

And then, Patton’s lips are on his. They are soft and sweet, contrary to the bitten, scarred ones of Logan’s. The kiss is like Patton. It is like cotton candy. Like diamonds, seemingly breakable but one of the hardest to break. Like honey, cultivated through time. It was Patton in every sense. Logan thinks he could stay like this forever. It was perfect

 

Patton breaks away, he is blushing and Logan wants to hold his face in his hands. He wants to protect him. He doesn’t care about the subtle crick in his neck from bending it so low. 

 

“Do you wanna go on a date with me, Patton Parker?” Logan asks, a lovesick grin on his face. 

 

Patton smiles back, “I would love to, Logan Lancaster.”

 

.

.

.

 

When they all come back together to go home, Remy is looking… nervous. His hand is in his pocket, and it’s fumbling around and Logan thinks something for a second, only to wave it away in useless thought. But his thought is correct.

 

And Remy is on one knee.

 

And Dylan is grinning from ear to ear. And so is Remy. 

 

And tears are sprouting from Dylan’s eyes. 

 

“Will you marry me, Dylan?” Remy’s voice cracks, and his hands are shaking. 

 

Dyan nods, and he is screaming yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. And they are hugging. And they are kissing. 

 

And Virgil is smiling, and Roman is squeezing his shoulder. 

 

Patton is smiling like this is what life is for. This is why we live. Why we’re here. Logan is grinning now, unable to keep it from his face. Everyone is delirious with bliss. 

 

 

 

Logan thinks that, if Love is a Lottery Ticket, he had won jackpot. 

 

 

_ THE END _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hotline for domestic abuse -- 1-800-799-7233  
> hotline for suicide prevention -- 1-800-273-8255  
> If you are in an abusive relationship, please get help from those around you. They care more than you could imagine. 
> 
> Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride.  
> It means so much that out of the thousands of fics you could've clicked on, you clicked on mine. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, maybe you'll want to read Roman and Virgil's love story, "A Stitch Threaded by Fate" taking place in the same universe.  
> If you can't wait any longer for writing by yours truly, then maybe you would like to take a gander at "Dancing on the Edge of a Cliff" by me and my sister. 
> 
> If you'd like to leave a kudos or a comment, i'd thank you a thousand stars.  
> Thank you so much for coming, if you're interested in reading Auguste's chapter, that'll be out on Saturday, March 2nd.


	11. That was all he could ask for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IN NO WAY, A WAY TO SAY THAT AN ABUSER ISN'T GUILTY.  
> I thought it would be interesting to get a different perspective, Auguste's to be specific. I'm not trying to alleviate Auguste's abuse as okay just because he came from a bad background. It's just a different way in seeing him, to give you some insight on why he could've done it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and if you want to leave a comment or a kudos I would be very thankful.  
> And, of course,  
> lmao beware of swearies

“Patton came into my life, riding on a horse. His chestplate glistening in the sun, full of all its charm. He came into my life as the unconventional knight in shining armor. I don’t think he knew he was, but he was. He came into my life as a blessing, and he would never know how much of a blessing he was.” 

 

“I think it was love at first sight. Like Romeo and Juliet’s, destined for tragedy. One side left with all the tragedies that the other had bore on them. One side that got to keep the gift of life on their hands, having the ability to walk away. The side that was painted with the blame despite it all being the other’s doing.”

 

“It was the sweet puppy love that all couples aspired to have. The storybook romance that everyone strived to have. It just had its qualities that made it weave into a different tale. And suddenly I was the dragon that kept the princess locked up in her tower. I was the evil witch of the west, the curse that kept the protagonists from their happy ending.”

 

“I just didn’t know until it was too late.”

 

.

.

.

 

Auguste was running. He was running through the rain like his life depended on it, and he was sure it did. His mother would slap him if he came a second too late, she would berate him, call him out for his lies. Hit in the face with her words rather than her actions. Have him rolling and writhing on the floor in pain from her suggestions. It was never his dad’s throws that sent him sprawling, rather the deep cut of his mother’s sentences. 

 

So Auguste was running. He had grown not to be afraid of slipping and falling because if he did, he’d pick himself up again and keep going. He had to. No one was there to do it for him. 

 

Until he fell. And just about when he was about to pick himself up, someone else was. A boy with unruly caramel curls and blue eyes that shined like the sun like the moon and everything in between. A boy with a twinkle in his eye that seemed to wink Auguste. And everything seemed to be fine again.

 

It felt like the world had decided to give Auguste something to hold onto, one more branch. One more crumb for him to nibble on. One more piece of hope. And he did, he held onto it, despite knowing he shouldn’t have. 

 

.

.

.

 

When he asked Patton out, on the date he told him lies. Lies to make him sound like wasn’t as broken as he was. He was exotic, he told him. He said he was from France and how his parents didn’t even speak English but he did. He learnt English in under a year. And in this alternate persona he made up for himself, he could play the piano. Apparently, he had grown up rich and was able to afford these lessons. Oh and did he mention his hair was this fiery red? That it wasn’t something just so people would stop asking him why his head grew red itself. That it wasn’t just another cover up that he had to wear to hide. 

 

He loved who he had been with Patton. The Auguste who had the perfect life, the Auguste that had everything Auguste had wanted.

 

.

.

.

 

When Auguste’s grandmother had a stroke, she didn’t have one. He didn’t have one that he knew, that had even lived when he had walked the earth. He hadn’t had a grandmother to mourn. He was drunk. He had replaced the memories of being thrown to the floor with getting shit drunk at a bar down the street from Patton’s apartment. At first he had gone there to just loosen up, not be the Auguste he knew, but the one Patton did. Innebreation didn’t leave the best memory and his tardiness would not be seen well from Patton’s friends, he knew that, so he stopped by the bakery next door. The chances were high that at least one of them would recognize the brownies but he thought he’d take a chance to sound like the hero in Patton’s story. 

 

He was touch starved, and at times like this he craved it more than ever. Normally he’d get a gentle caress on the chin from his mother,  _ why would you do this _ , she’d ask. He’d just smile, despite the inner craving to flinch away from her hands. So, he needed a replacement. He was sorry Patton was there. That anyone was. He wished he could take it back immediately the next morning but his memory was clear and his drunken stupor must’ve clouded his vision, so he couldn’t manage the amount of revulsion patton would have felt. 

 

So he apologized. And Patton said it was alright. And once again, Patton seemed like the light in all things dark. 

 

.

.

.

 

“I was insecure. I… felt like I was just a kleenex that Patton was using right before he took the sick medication. Just a tiny step to where he wanted to be. Patton was my only place where I could be who I wanted to be, he was the only person who even liked me and the person I could be frank with. And I just… I thought if I only got one person, then it was unfair that he got more. Jealousy had taken over me, it had cloaked my rationality in shadows of doubt that charmed my judgement in ways I didn’t understand. And then… I was hurting him. Physically, this time.”

 

“It had started in the way that all things do. Without your knowing.”

 

.

.

.

 

When purple, blue, and brown spots snuck up onto Patton’s face, Auguste didn’t notice. He didn’t notice until they clouded over Patton’s features, threatening to spill onto the floor in a puddle of colors. 

 

He realized too late what had been happening. When Logan had come, he had been thankful. He hadn’t been thrown into a jealous rage, rather, something like a great depression. And he decided to get help. 

 

Finally. 

 

Thankfully. 

 

.

.

.

 

“And that’s how I got here.” Auguste drew his head up from his hands, his face covered in the sadness of a thousand nights spent alone. 

 

Picani inhales a breath in, blinking. Auguste had come to multiple sessions already to retell his tale. Although Picani liked to be specific in his work, to know someone’s whole backstory before relaying advice, he found it a bit difficult to pick pieces. He knew that there was a certain confidentiality between him and his clients but Auguste… Picani had the idea that he couldn’t give him all the advice he needed. 

 

He crossed his legs over one another, looking up from his notebook. “I think that you can’t apologize for the things you’ve done. But sometimes just trying to be better, is the best apology you can give anyone.”

 

Maybe Auguste would be okay. Maybe he wouldn’t be. 

 

But Patton would. And Logan. And Remy. And Dylan. And Virgil. And Roman. And Picani. And maybe

 

That was alright.

 

That was all he could ask for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hotline for domestic abuse -- 1-800-799-7233  
> hotline for suicide prevention -- 1-800-273-8255  
> If you are in an abusive relationship, please get help from those around you. They care more than you could imagine.
> 
> Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride, from start to finish, especially if you read this chapter. I, honestly, didn't know if I would be able to finish this fic, and this has encouraged me to start working on bigger projects. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, maybe you'll want to read Roman and Virgil's love story, "A Stitch Threaded by Fate" taking place in the same universe.  
> If you can't wait any longer for writing by yours truly, then maybe you would like to take a gander at "Dancing on the Edge of a Cliff" by me and my sister.
> 
> If you'd like to leave a kudos or a comment, i'd thank you a thousand stars.  
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
